spectator

no giants guard against brigades of lies
so many horrors weigh upon each life
and there is nothing here to replace strife
upon each back is weight of thousand eyes
those are strange stars under the darker skies
and each will shine as brightly as a knife
while rumours of new horror still run rife
and no one wants to listen to our cries
this is an age of change and every breath
announces that we have not yet been felled
or placed within the boxes of the night
but there are worse conclusions still than death
we stood and watched while better men rebelled
knowing that they took our place in the fight