| Blood on My Hands |
|---|
| When I see the towers fall, |
| It cannot be denied that, |
| As a spectacle, |
| It is a realization of the mind. |
| You see,? |
| I’m standing on a mountaintop |
| And letting out a scream, |
| It’s the language of the earth, |
| It is the language of the beasts. |
| There’s no point to look behind us, |
| We left the corpse behind, |
| Because flesh is weak and forms break down. |
| They cannot last forever |
