Dying into a dance, 
Dismal the tide of woes, 
Your eyes still can't see 
A wave in the foaming streams 
Turned loose our prayings son. 

The crawling snakes of massacre mesmerize the worn-out. 

We gathered the first drop after the bite 
And spilled the poison 
Over 
the earth. 
The taste of rain was bitter: 
Blood and grey skies entwined.