The Age of Estrangement
Safe in the bosom of wickedness
Rocked in the arms of selfish defeat
The wind whispers their names
Heard only by those in hopeless retreat
They’re spoon fed and neat
Dressed only to be seen
There’s starlight dancing in the sky.
A lonely reminder of what could have been.
There’s cash a plenty
Thou satisfy the Servile’s might
Tis only the moonlight warming the cold dark nights
Not the love of bairns lost to the fight