Pointing fingers, walkways lined
with grim and iron faces
Truth and law shall be defined
in a hundred painful paces.
Judgements made by righteous minds
of socially deemed elite
While bruised and battered a victim torn
onward drags his feet
Hateful hate in his blood-drip
falling to the dust
Beast-touched in eye and tongue
walks on, as he must
Yet pitiful this last long slog
broken, lost, forsaken
Will not live to see the day
if day should yet awaken
Whispers down the watching hush
of desperate, unquenched need
Driving bruised and battered men to
the unforgiven deed
A vulture circles in the air
wings leaden with Blame
swooping, diving, everywhere
finds they're all the same
Guilt, black guilt, oozing through
every step that's taken
seeks and probes at every soul
and Faith may yet be shaken
Doubt colors living breath
but voices still be hushed
None will dare, they're all aware
rebellion's swiftly crushed.
And still he bleeds his broken path
now that he's begun
Perhaps right, perhaps wrong
but this one death is certain
Dust in blood, blood in dust
soon this life will fade
Torn and broken, bloodied and beaten
to rest he will be laid
but.....no rest for doubt and fear
and no rest for the tyrant spear
Fear in the walkways lined
with grim and iron faces
as Truth and Law will face the test
in his hundred paces.
