The Hands of Men
I've been around the throwing stones of haunted sailors
The torments of the dreams of brothers blood they spilled
I lingered in beside the lines of knights and generals
I showed my face in all of those their arrows killed
Forged in the depths of all those young and bleeding
Calling for their friends and family all in vain
My voice was in the rifle shots that mauled the fleaing
It resonates across the land to burn the grain
I was on the parapet with the archers arrows
I watched them crashing down upon the hearts of men
And I was there before the strike and massive harrows
I was there when all the phalanx saw dark again
I have seen myself in all my abandoned glory
I shield my eyes in fear of the reflections I saw
Every drop a blood I've squeezed will fuel the story
Of the dreams of flying machines and broken laws
All of you who brandish guns in fleating valor
When all is said I'll count you dead in the burning mud
I'll pull inside all your wooden pride and raise the anchor
The hands of men will take me then on past the flood