The sea will be as a desertnWhen my bones are long to dustnBeneath shifting dunesnAnd the searing Unconquerable sonnnPile the bodies on the pyrenWarm the old heart of the earthnThis is no place for faith, nor for hopenJust a journey through the darkest of nightsnTo the old heart of the earthnnThese are wounds made by cold handsnThat know the bite of steelnHands that have rendered life extinctnAnd punished the weak at heartnnTell me what Nation on this EarthnIs not born of tragedy?nThat has not felt such harsh weaponsnWielded by cruelty's desire