Blurred Moon - Burn Old Rome.

One Upon A Blue Red Moon,
There Lied The Secret Of Spoons,
And Once They All Came Chanting,
But One Of Them Instead, Was Ranting.

One That Grew Jealous Of Power,
Something That Put Him Down Much Lower.

Jealous Of The Third He Became,
The Third That Was The First's Favorite,
He Would Be The One To Carry The Blame,
​Enter Slavery.

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But He Who Cared For Us Brothers,
Showed Much Bravery,
Hid Us From Mother,
A Battle For Keys, Thievery.

And So Slipping Through Our Fingers,
We Stabbed Each Other Like Splinters.

A Great Battle Ensued,
One That Had Long Been Planned,
​Now Pursued.

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And So The Gods Entered Battle,
One Against One,
For Survival.

There Were No Teams,
For Each To Its Own Was Favored,
Each One Tearing At The Seams,
Each Their Own Savior.

And So The Battle Continued,
Much Noise Proclaimed,
There Must Be A Tribute,
For One Would Be Framed.

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And Crucified Amongst Us All Brethren,
The Orange God Now Bled,
It Became Apparent,
One Would Fled, One Would Turn To Lead.

But There Remained The Song,
One Would Sing Along,
Contagious Like Poison,
Put Us All In Trance, No Motion.

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An Eternal Vision, A Muse,
To Remember The Rules,
In Between Lines, A Ruse.

So Each One Fought Harder,
And Years Later Those Still Pray,
For New World Order,
Come What May.

But After The Keys Returned,
Only Three Seats Not Burned.

So Who Will Be Driving Now?
Leading The Gods?
To Eternal Flame,
To Feed The Sacred Crow?
And Take In His Hand, A Dame.

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Things Change,
But Not Always For The Better,
Always Practicing On The Firing Range,
No Longer Together.

Will There Be Friendly Fire?
To Those Who Still Aspire?
To Be Better And Stronger,
Enter The Warmonger.

One Who Once Ruled, Now Sickly,
How Dare The Red God Burn Him So Quickly?

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He Will Look At You When He Returns,
To Find Your Wrongdoings And Sins,
Give You The Crown Of Thorns,
You Judas, You Master Puppeteer Pulling Strings.

Once Again, Defeated You Will Be,
By The One Who Sings.

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Just Remember, He Knows All,
A Master Of Books And Tales,
A Keeper Of Keys,
A Builder Of Walls.

He Who Created Our Prison,
Small But Strong As A Bison.

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And So When You Walk By The Hallway,
Hear His Screams And Notice,
You Can No Longer Sacrifice To The Blue Moon,
A Door Locked Shut, Protected By Grey,
The Only One That Knows His Prognosis,
The Only One That Refines His Tune,
He Will Return To Slay.

And So The War Begins Again,

Who Will Be Left To Reign?
Who Will Be Crucified Again?
Who Will Swallow And Carry The Pain?
Who Will In Slumber, Remain?
Who Has Nothing To Gain?
Who Will Fight To Contain?
Who Will Stay In His Domain?
Who Will Be Chained?
Who Will Be In Charge To Train?
Who Will Share Feelings, Feigned?
Whose Name Will Be Taken In Vain?
Who Will Be Kept Barely Together To Maintain?
Who Will Be Left Shattered In Pieces To Entertain?

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