The Burning

Walking down past the old railroad,

Destruction painted in the very name,

Where in the flames they were consumed,

And left there, writhing, crying out in pain.

But I keep walking on and on,

With a peace that they could never obtain,

And, with sombre tears, I pass alone.

Then I see your face,

And I know it’s all lost.

Later on, down the same road,

On the horizon I see a distant cloud,

and suddenly, like a swarm in front of me,

a hoard of people gather around.

But all of them are blind,

And cannot hear the sound,

Of death forging on ahead.

Then I see your face,

And I know it’s all gone.

Opening, slowly, the heavy gates,

I see a living hell,

Smell the burning souls, tortured,

With no voices left to tell

Of the horrors that happened there.

Somewhere in the darkness I hear a bell,

Signalling a change that comes too late.

Then I see your face,

And I know that I’m to blame.