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.