When the silence keeps coming back to haunt the neighborhood
I hear a piano and a violin playing but without notes, without root -
The night is an ancestral sound before a great war at the gates
I hear the battles before they throw the arrows, before they raise the flags.
Everything's a matter of hazard, every moment - a bizarre context
Every sword taken out on the field, every man that was not put to rest;
For why do they talk about gods when everything that you see
Is the making of men and women inventing a thing called history?
And why do we come here with a scream and go without a sound
When all that's between doesn't matter when you're in the ground
For what do we fight during our enlightenment of consciousness
When all you achieve becomes nothing when you're breathless?
