Part 6: Epilogical
Now that the dust of time has settled
Now that the dies of fate have been cast
All that remains are burning embers
Empty dreams of the iconoclast
And here, in that post history world
The ashes of hope will still remain
Fertile ground for a new life to grow
Spawned from seeds of this unholy reign
In that final hour, it became clear
The oldest battle so ill-conceived
Had failed to appease the real gods
The eldest, most utterly aggrieved
Many centuries man conceded
Reverence to the invisible
While tripping over the natural
Beating down the aboriginal
Fraternal gods in the clouds above
Looking down upon their creation
Brought cold comfort in the dead of night
Trading comfort for inspiration
In the meantime, the pagans labored
To gather meaning upon this earth
Striving to protect the great mother
The literal Eden of their birth
Once apocryphal in its nature
A conceit so carelessly forlorn
An homage to the terrestrial
Here in this land from which we were born
It seems the preoccupation with
That spectral spirit up in the sky
Bred an antipathy for Eden
A contradiction we can’t deny
Every man would trade their mortal soul
For a drop of any salvation
Willing to lay waste to their homeland
Burning the seeds of their creation
This god of the sky is quite sexy
Superior to the world below
Forced to give of our lives completely
We forget what it is we forgo
This planet continues to suffer
The ashes of contempt so subsumed
Resolving the guilt of the careless
To support the prayers of the doomed
Perhaps we were too poorly equipped
To make it much further beyond now
Because of our shortsighted nature
We have slaughtered the once sacred cow
We forged every plowshare into sword
We salted the earth in some gods’ name
We abandoned our tribal nature
In pursuit of the glory and fame
Here in the epilogue of our fate
We join ranks with dearly departed
The heretics’ prayer unanswered
Concluded before it was started
Mannino Acid 