Age of Excuse I

A species had been armed with a double-edged blade A guardless weapon of delusion Forged of a mirage of inherent transcendence In the tangled mechanisms of life itself As the curtain is being unraveled The ego writhes in a spasm of insight Delighted gods grunt like pigs At the mere notion of a raison d'etre From the gardens of semiramis To the trenches of ypres A meaningless uproar Sublime truths are revealed In the hammering of hobnailed jackboots And there's wisdom to be found In the shameful epitaphs of cowards From the gardens of semiramis To the trenches of ypres From the grounds of comitium To the cellars of tuol sleng From the spores of presence And a swarm of pest Unto the ironies of being Falling hopes whip the ground Among laments of sunken millennia There are no paths to follow But a nightmare of endless repetition Those who peruse the annals of humanity Demanding patterns, connections, developments Were there any to be found? And was it sapience indeed that kept pushing this broken cart? The wonders The misery The ascent The emptiness Falling hopes whip the ground Among laments of sunken millennia There are no paths to follow But a nightmare of endless repetition