Ordo Victis, a veritable sin.
The blood mystique is wearing thin
As time trickles. It poisons us all
Holding us high before our downfall.
Gods forsaken, our world against their's
That mankind is doomed to cold spectral glares.
Ordo Victis, our souls are wrung dry
Under a blazing sun. We're so blessed to die
In a holy land of steel and glass.
Our messiah is born among a blinded mass
Preaching to the deaf without a tongue,
Ending
The needless spending
Of searing pain.
While the powers wane
Erecting Gods of Neon in their place
For autonomy is a sin against the human race.
We must break these chains in this eternal war
Like Prometheus unto Olympus in times before:
Fighting,
Dying,
Enlightening,
Giving,
Living,
Loving,
Hating,
Waiting,
Participating
In a willful sovereignty of self.
To my brother, I give no pelf.
With iron health
I ascend beyond the social hells.
Achieving godhood as Cathedral bells
Ring for the death of moral wells.
The death of God,
King,
Priest,
Duty,
Honor,
Ideas,
the People,
the Nation,
idealistic abominations.
But death and fate won't set
Me free. Cyclical revolutions get
Nothing changed but the malleable head.
Thus Ordo Victis until we're dead.
The blood mystique is wearing thin
As time trickles. It poisons us all
Holding us high before our downfall.
Gods forsaken, our world against their's
That mankind is doomed to cold spectral glares.
Ordo Victis, our souls are wrung dry
Under a blazing sun. We're so blessed to die
In a holy land of steel and glass.
Our messiah is born among a blinded mass
Preaching to the deaf without a tongue,
Ending
The needless spending
Of searing pain.
While the powers wane
Erecting Gods of Neon in their place
For autonomy is a sin against the human race.
We must break these chains in this eternal war
Like Prometheus unto Olympus in times before:
Fighting,
Dying,
Enlightening,
Giving,
Living,
Loving,
Hating,
Waiting,
Participating
In a willful sovereignty of self.
To my brother, I give no pelf.
With iron health
I ascend beyond the social hells.
Achieving godhood as Cathedral bells
Ring for the death of moral wells.
The death of God,
King,
Priest,
Duty,
Honor,
Ideas,
the People,
the Nation,
idealistic abominations.
But death and fate won't set
Me free. Cyclical revolutions get
Nothing changed but the malleable head.
Thus Ordo Victis until we're dead.
VIEW 4 of 4 COMMENTS
craftygrrl:
Did you or your beard write this? And more importantly, was your beard smoking and drinking a glass of Scotch whilst writing it (if it indeed was your beard that did scribe these words)?
taco_barbarian:
My beard wrote this in it's own blood, while drinking a glass of scotch aged nine years and smoking a cuban cigar he imported through the breasts of his spicy latina lover. I however laid witness to this magnificent event, after writing the poem, my beard punched my lights out and made love to his beloved Carmina. I hear it was good.