Clipse

Dismal gray once in green
This land is bright, dead, unseen
I pray this baby is not dead
I pray for its mothers' daily bread
Boy coils when hurt and shot
Man weeps, he's left unfought
Bridges burn in fire's flame
In hell they burn, they weep the same
Gorges filled with tormented woes
Friends befitted in soul-less foes
Ashes turns the earth to bread
Ashes turn the living from dead
Mother seen with baby fed
Brother lives and father's dead
Hell is empty, heaven torn
God is happy, earth's unborn
Yet empty still, here I lie
Tormented by my mother's cries