Ylem
Caleb Belac
The beginning of a time
Where you hear the bullets whining
And you cry out as the helpless
But only you're forgotten
The beginning of the marches
And the end of the calmness
How can one think it's wrong
To die among the Martyrs?
The beginning of the violence
And the sound of the sirens
Screeching tires form the lines of men
Who's job is to die