For The City
Bang the gong, you men of Thunder,
Swing the hammer til it bleeds,
Shake the trees until their empty,
Powder out your bones of greed.
Sound the call for reinforcements,
Gird your loins you boyish fool,
Wield a prayer that cuts down warriors,
Turn your pride into your tool.
Hear the swell of battle movements,
Eat your last meals fireside,
Kiss your brothers, write your mothers,
Prepare your soul for heavenside.
And even when the sabers miss you,
Boots are bloody, but you still have breath,
Pray a prayer for those departed,
Gather together whatever is left,
And put the dregs into a coffin,
Submerge the box into the earth,
And like a farmer waits for a harvest,
Like a mother through a birth,
Bring forth a sapling of restoration
Fertilized with blood of honest men.
Let the children reign in purest grandeur.
Let generations begin and end.
Let us be men that leave a history
Of cities forged with honest gain
Let the house be full of happy women
Let our love be rid of pain