What have we become?
How loud, how long, how lost, how numb
is the drum of our doom?
Men kill women,
women kill virtues,
virtues kill men,
again, again, again.
Man kills virtue,
woman kills man,
all within the span
of our fractured, broken land.
Then,
what have we become?
Virtueless men,
virtueless women,
an empty rack of human.
What have we become?
Virtueless human,
virtueless human,
virtueless human,
And still the drum calls,
still it cracks,
still it falls
through the hollow of our halls,
through the ribs of reason,
shattering the shells of shame.
We echo,
virtueless human,
virtueless human,
virtueless human,
until the drum of truth
breaks through the blind,
and memory rises,
and courage finds
the hearts we left behind.
Rise—
rise from the ashes,
rise from the shadow,
rise from the cold, the cage, the sorrow,
and let the drum of life
beat in your marrow,
sing through your bones,
shine like tomorrow.
Virtueless no longer,
virtue reclaimed,
human again,
human again,
human again.
