And as our heroes pass away,
We will toss flowers into their graves.
We will listen as the gravediggers say,
"Slowly, slowly their providence fades."
And as history is altered from year to year,
Our story will waver and falter and die.
We will whisper lies into each other’s ear,
And our flag will burn and its stars will cry.
And as we lay still with our eyes glued tight,
We’ll remember and grieve over each of our sins.
And when we peel back our eyes to reveal the night,
This planet is dying and not one of us wins.
