Souls are the random servants
Inside our rotting shells.
Reliable repository of the sins.
Gods were doomed to torments,
Left without faith
The rivers of lives turned into fire winds.
Is the soul creator or destroyer?
There is no telling... How can I tell?
Body is a prison for the human rage,
A temple of diseases, a refuge for revenge.
Nothing but repugnance and blood feud
People are creators of their disruptive mood.
Death is revelation for the puny hearts,
Oasis for the wanderer, a prayer for the gods.
Stony mask of apathy and wounded pride
But it's an unbearable pain inside...
Relentless sand storms
Are the resource of human bones.
Death valley for the warrior race.
Did our hands create that or destroy that?
I think I know - they created this Hell.
Are the souls creators or destroyers?
There is no telling... How can I tell?
Ruins of the nation
Ruins of the war
Ruins of the civilizations.
Wastes of the human lives.