Antidote

Listen you wretched dogs, we shall die,
no days of old, with bones to haul, no rules apply,
with taste of rum, no women cry, the distant spring,
wind bled by, to bold in sand I say... goodbye,
choose or cut your neck, to feel the heart,
to not forget, in memory of those who left,
floats by, once we met.

Bridges will burn, flames of war,
heads will turn, in days of old, by words of seer,
once a scribe rammed stake should clear,
in darkest day, through brightest night,
stranger once walked on stage to fright:
"There is a man on top of the hill,
he talked about Father, Rome send him his bill,
on edge of spear, in the morning Sun,
serpent has talked, bitten was one."