by Nick Gisburne
We scale the sacred temple, reckless men
Narcotic powders poison every brain
The worst of us, the Suicides, the Ten
Embrace a frenzy far beyond insane
Our bodies flood with fantasy, of course
Like dogs, we slaver, craving for a kill
A sacrificial, servile soldier force
In bondage to the promise of a pill
Unfathomable fury cracks the dome
We shatter every window, every door
The prize: a prophet, murdered, here, at home
A meaningless transaction of the war
He burns beneath a smoking pile of stone
And through our minds more dreams, more drugs, are blown
