The Ruin of Broken Dreams

The Ruin of Broken Dreams



Born innocent into the solemn place,
Where Joy is seldom kept,
As children gaze upon the Face,
Of the Ancient Gods who wept.

With Woe and Wonder and with Want,
Wander all the men about-
So quickly quietly and gaunt,
They there are found who have bled out.

The Pitiful Paupers who prance all around-
The Weak and the Wasted and Worn-
They shudder to see that at hearing a sound,
That they all be discarded and torn.

So Sweet the is the Sorrow Silence dear,
So dark and drearily-
Found so happily vanquished here-
Died out so wearily.

The Shadows cast within the Night,
And Darkness is uprising-
The Demons live in Dying Light,
As we are realizing.

The Night subdued into a day,
Where Man is Mad with Fear,
The Wretched Wicked fade away-
And Death is held so dear.

In Darkness lacking aim He gropes,
So blissfully blatantly blind-
Hanging bodies by the ropes,
What do you hope to find?

That Fathers going off to War-
Alone the Mothers crying,
Fallen friends who live no more-
And Children left to dying.

Among the wasted Earth ye wait,
As Satan laughs it seems,
The Destination of your Fate-
Is The Ruin of Broken Dreams.