Frostthrower - Ilsa

Human all too human!

Written in lonesome sorrow

Holds hard truths

Herads downfall

In the newborn century

Oh what heavy hands!

What armies at your command!

I need not the blank expanse

Canvas of unknown failures

Pitiful, as it plods

It drags behind it

The stench of bloated justice

The death throes of countless

Fallen idols

Pained, painted faces

Desperate, braved

For what waits ahead

Charged with foul tasks

Set to destruct;

I create when I destroy

Fascist misinterpretations

Of our natures or creations

But human all too human

Perhaps it is true:

Maybe there is only so much

Damage we can undo

A burden that’s relentless

And yet is all our own:

To perish with a sneer

Where a smile could have grown

A burden that’s relentless

And yet is all our own:

To perish with a frown

Where a smile could have grown

Oh, what heavy hands!

What violence at your command!

Oh, what heavy hands!

What armies await your commands!