The place we never want to know
For the lives war took and never returned
The grounds of ruin
The audacity the clouds has to be clear
Perhaps it is well to bring ephemeral and unrecognised peace
The clarity that existed before the ruin returned in the face of chaos
The place where mothers die, and babies wail
Where water falls and fire crawls
Where all laymen want the same thing
Where none will admit to their neighbor
The noise of chaos, the burden of death that will soon befall
The ache of a sleepless and restless day
The hunger of the empty streets
To the orchestrators are but news, tuned in and out of
The brothers dare in fear and wear the stench of an anticipated triumph
Both sides convinced that victory in the fight tomorrow is inevitable
What all would pay for a place with less noise, less crying, less death
A place like that abode of the orchestrators

