One by one they feel
The cold sharp blade of indifference
One by one they fell
Gathered up by
The smiling reaper
Like stalks of wheat to be bundled for
The long march into dark
He breaks their faith into spectral hates
And divides their souls
He waits for waiting is his task
He sits at the table empty but for blood
And gorges on a million dreams
Left floating like chaff
In the hot dead air