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Human all too human!
written in lonesome sorrow,
holds hard truths.
Herads downfall,
in the newborn century.
Oh what heavy hands!
What armies at your command!
I need not the blank expanse,
canvas of unknown failures.
Pitiful, as it plods,
it drags behind it,
the stench of bloated justice,
the death throes of countless
fallen idols.
Pained, painted faces.
Desperate, braved,
for what waits ahead.
Charged with foul tasks.
Set to destruct;
I create when I destroy.
Fascist misinterpretations,
of our natures or creations.
But human all too human,
perhaps it is true:
Maybe there is only so much
damage we can undo.
A burden that's relentless,
and yet is all our own:
To perish with a sneer,
where a smile could have grown.
A burden that's relentless,
and yet is all our own:
To perish with a frown,
where a smile could have grown.
Oh, what heavy hands!
What violence at your command!
Oh, what heavy hands!
What armies await your commands!

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