Cycle

Rotting are the chains that bind me
To sanity and to belief in man
So if they drop, what shall there be?
I imagine, though know not if I can...

Should the roots of life wither away
Leaving a musty trail behind them
All would look, all would dismay
For then would the chains unbind them

Should the horizon fall to earth
To mix with soil it reigned upon
There would remain only dirt
And malignant, putrid spawns

And then these spawns would rise
To both create and destroy
Oh, from darkness at such a price
Would stand a new Troy

And the spawns would live
Coldly murdering each other
Take, when they should give
Recognising neither father nor mother

And themselves they would call men
And be proud of their wrongdoings
„Heroes“ - they would say of them,
Who would be the harbingers of ruin

And then the chains would rot once more
Releasing bindings that were meant to hold
Bravely, do they fight eternal war
Chains, against a time so old...