Borders swell like the oceansnNations swept awaynIn the steel rainnWounds carved in the earthnThe silent hands of genocidenMap of the yearsnForgotten legacies of dustnPeople remembered in nothingnBut fragments of languagenVerses of songnAnd shards of military rustnnThe gallows cold handsnTighten old ropenYoung men hang in the fetid breezenLike rotten fruitnToo ripe for harvestnThey have marched usnThrough the streetsnHeralded our deathnProclaimed our endnAnd brought us to our kneesnnA host of the willing fewnIs gathered at the Traitors GatesnDemanding their pound of fleshnAnd their weight in goldnnThe tyrantnResurrected as KingnWho's Midas touch an Iron FistnAll the world proclaimingnYesterday's man as TraitornYet welcome with open armsnHis brother as tomorrows Dictator