LOVERS AT THE MIDNIGHT BURNING
I
Power. Gold. Fanatic religious.
The women who drown have proved they’re not witches
Fire purges: the stake is for sinners
The grip of the whip’s in the hand of the winner
Flaming speeches; the rabble’s aroused, and
Books and witches are burnt by the thousand
The machine keeps churning
Turning tricks and fixing fate
The lovers at the midnight burning
Never learning from the smoke of Hate
From the smoke of Hate
II
Kill thy neighbor, nobody’s minding
Love remains blind – the warhead is blinding
At the end of the day, the flowers in the rifles
Were just another protest, put out and stifled
The lovers, inflamed by political violence,
stand and look at the pyres in silence
The machine keeps churning
Anchored in its dire strait
The lovers at the midnight burning
Never learning from the smoke of Hate
From the smoke of Hate
…
IV
Guns burst. Feet first. Carry out orders!
Plunder and rape in a state of disorder
Well-fed bloodlust doesn’t need goading
Pins pulled, then thrown; grenades keep exploding
Gun fodder soldiers, what are you afraid of?
You are the stuff that heroes are made of
The machine keeps churning
The bullets knocking on the gate
The lovers at the midnight burning
Never learning from the smoke of Hate
From the smoke of Hate
(… continued …)