Eastern Mills

Si vis pacem para bellum Para bellum Para bellum Para bellum In the shadowed realm Where darkness dwells, Ancient stones, like twisted tongues They tell of relentless toil and The cries of man As grinding stones crush bones to meal Desolating circle of the void Not fertile, but withering Breaking down the essence of persistent Descent into cruel deeds Where knowledge defined in metal Overture of the eastern mills' gears Progenies of ignorance Dreaming for the lights of murkiness The fortified ancient soils Embodied by the heritage of insight, refulgence Pillaged, invaded, raped through perishableness Misery concealed behind the curtains of the upcoming incidents A horror is soothing through the tunnel of eras Crackling sparks of rotten horizons, ruins For the shallow perception of many, burning winds The winds of demolition blew within Sounds from the basement Silt of the eastern lanes Cries from the crossroads Silt of the eastern lane Weeping wise men exiled Silt of the eastern lane To unknown lands And valleys