March Of The Martyr

When it's insufficient to alone witness the love of god
And perish with the pious hands of seers
You will hearken to his proselytising messiah call
Before rinsing the blood from your ringing ears
And I'm sure all is just in holy rape and war
A bond, only a band of brothers share
Wielding the world by the sword they clench
As the fanatical feed purpose to the powerless

Propaganda ignites young and dull hearts revolting
Under the irrefutable imprimatur of sacred law
Claiming casualties on mortared paved battlefields
While urchins run before they turn to rubble
In the fog and vapour of a crusader's graveyard
Where the dogmatic plunder the gifts of god

Flesh evaporates as bone becomes debris
Scattered amongst the ash and dirt 
What hope for the gilded wings of refuge
When weapons are amulets, and servants; accolades above
For the celestial skin, the warrior ensues
Whilst precipitately blasting off, into the orifice of death

But who by the sword can asseverate
A pillar, path or fold to liberty
When the dead are judged and the antagonist unveiled
From the pathetic guise of divinity