Why are you here? To listen to a man who can articulate sneer? You are the I, storm's anger is your ear... You are the corner-stone They build upon you, taking all The passion you wrote upon the wall They know the name but can't recall How they made you their own. No matter, for they are the dreams Of dead-men who succumbed to screams The shadows splashed upon the screens Of lives already done. But here you are, you son of man The heart within the lone Brigand That child that robs inside the man The setting of the sun I see you are the shadow lost The heartbeat of the holocaust You, like me, a burning cross... ...the handle of the gun.