Nothingnew Death Of The Badlands
she lay her tired body against the cold and dusty earth, her fists clenching the soil. she stared into the sky, motionless transcending the physical world she'd known. now here they come... the rumble growing louder, ominous and threatening, she just lay there awake. no motion but the gentle sighing in her chest, her sandy hair dancing over her face. they go marching in, in the name of unity, democracy, just a civilized route to slave brutality.
in all the days of our lives, that all of my people have known, never shall i rescind on the promises to ourselves. iron shoes pounding earth the gunshots strip this home of its former dignity. the last drops of blood have tainted this ground and they stain the shoes of the cowardly.
she lay right in their path, her iron constitution held fast, tears streamed down her face until she too was trampled beneath the feet of this imperial, democratic-peace-building nation-state. this land was ours to share, it's gone -- just the lonely spirits dancing on the air, she couldn't control it, was out of her hands (the massacre, the white flags waved on salty shores)
voices on deaf ears, death of the badlands (the backdrop sounds the call for this white-washed, brainwashed, lopsided war) but she's still here on this trampled, lifeless plateau, and she'll haunt the souls of the cowards who came and took it all away
