Empire crule

An empire, her walls stand tall and firce.
Her flags blow thretningly in the wind.
You can hear her heartbeat through the ground.
Her voice is the sound of many horns, her song is the shout of
battle.

I remember the days when her body was just dust and rotten
timber.
No flag of pride and hate.
Her people worked the feelds until there hands were cracked and
blisterd , while the sun wrinkled the burnt skin of the children
playing in the roads.

How proud they have become, those who had nothing.
How crule, greedy and pittiless.
The dogs are treated better than the slaves who earn there money for
them.

Prostitutes stand at every corner, luring men to there houses of
erotick plesure.
Thives and murderes lurk in the dark allys; there eyes gleem evily as
they watch the people pass by.

A rich lord riding proudly on his horse comands his gards to remove a
dead beggar from his path. He does not even flinch at the sight of the
blood poring from the dead mans head.

What happend to the frendship and hospitality?
What of the innocence?
Men are so desperate to double there riches that they would sell there
own daughters as prostitutes, without a second thaught.

OH empire crule, how black you have become.
But black can be made gold again.