| the came from the east,
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| they brought horses to our cultivated lands,
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| the gave power to our have-nots.
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| they took our culture,
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| they brought new customs to our burial grounds,
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| broadened the bases of our history.
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| they came from the east,
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| replaced our despots with their caliphates,
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| conquered but tolerated our gods.
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| they brought us wisdom,
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| they brought a zero to our tired calculations,
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| they guarded knowledge we’d forgotten.
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| they came from the east. |
| byzantium (a city of moths)
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| crumbled into a dust that plunged europe into the dark.
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| constantinople (a metropolis of candles)
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| brought light to our books as europe forgot how to read.
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| let’s make this stage our rubicon,
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| let’s cast a die, let’s let history decide.
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| and as i cross it, i chase aeneas back to his ships,
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| i bring the rhythm back to the hips.
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| and as rome is consumed,
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| as i fiddle this whisper tune on these strings,
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| friends, i have no need of your ears.
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| so let’s make this stage our rubicon,
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| our frozen rhine, our yippie picket line
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| and i caesar hoffman! |
| and as i cross it,
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| i bring the central asian steppe sweeping into the wilds of europe.
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| i make my bedroom rome, i make this city my home,
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| i am remus come from the dead,
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| come to tell you all to sack this city tonight,
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| let’s sack this city tonight,
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| because i always heard better in the dark.
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| thus immersed in barbarous longing |