Woe of Tyrants Follow

Revolving doors, the words unspoken
The walls alive, their stories ringing litmus
True valor of the soldier questioned in a time of war

Now the jury leaves, expressing righteous dignity
Scratching planks within their eyes
Without even a moment their deliberation ends
A momentary judgment of a sick and dying man

Escaping through an iron door
The boulders coming faster now
The healing hands of saints surrender
As they see the head that glows disdain
The looks of disappointment stain
The once opaque within these walls

They bring the stones

Making flaccid sculptures form
Mere fragments remain

The gospel's wondrous beauty
Now in pieces on the floor
With the demons running rampant
In the eyes of unforgiving sons

Without hesitation
There is need for retreat
The walls are crumbling down
When they see me leave

They soak the bridge in gasoline
And we descend together

Revolving doors, the words unspoken
The walls alive, their stories ringing litmus
True valor of the soldier questioned in a time of war