kombol@lj

So, this is the West, a land we're meant to defend
Of happy slaves, who will babble to the end
Beneath the towers, where finaciers roost
But above them the sun
That sings out an ancient truth
Against, the modern world
On a hill that leads down to the sea
The last batallions of those who wait to see
The northern lights and the midnight sun
They await their sunrise
That they know will surely com
Against the modern world