Changing of the Guards

Sixteen years...

Sixteen banners united

Over the final mountain

While the good Shepard just rested

Till desperate men

Became so desperately divided

They now spread there wings unto his gailing

Gailing gusts at the end

But fortune calls

I stumble to the market

Where Merchants and Thieves
"everyone but mee!!"

Is so desperate for power

To the last fair deal gone down

I too am guilty for seeming sweet smelling

Everyone is so sweet smelling

From some tower near the town

And in a cold blooded moon

The Captain waits amongst celebration

Couriering his thoughts off to his beloved maid

Whose ebony face

Is beyond second-hand communication

The Captain goes down, still believing

Second-hand love will be repaid

So they shave her head

She was torn between Jupiter and Apollo

A Messenger arrives, alas!

But with a Blues Nightingale!

We saw this on the steps

We couldn't help but follow

Follow her down past the fountain

Where she unveiled these golden rules

I stumble to my feet

I roam past the destruction in the paddies

Where remedies ain't mending

Each and every heart-shaped tatoo

And renegade priests

Heinous acts and a misguided faithful

Why is he handing out flowers

Like the ones I give to you?

A palace of mirrors

Where dog soldiers are museumed

And the negating chimes of Nietzsche

Negate nichts

Where the memories are protected

Some memories just are

By fair blue angels who whisper

Only unto the worthy-hearted

All the secrets of previous times

So she wakes him up

48 hours later

Breaks his chains, moves his mountains

For Rolling Rock
I'm begging to know

Which direction they'd have me be taking

I know I'm dragging

Dragging her down

Clutching her long un-golden locks

So Gentlemen I say

I don't need your organizations

I've shined your shoes,

Moved your mountains

I think I'll Roll my Rock

For Eden in burning

Either get ready for Elimination

Or else your hearts must

Return to Courage

Oh The Changing of The Guards

Peace will come

On these tranquil wheels of Fire

But offer us no
No Reward

Until her last false-idol falls

And cruel-death surrenders

Its ghost it has been a retreating

From the light which shoned forth from

The Romance So Dark the Con

Completes his quest

His names is Free you may have listened

Handed me this blade

This Blade

They called him a Crackpot for his Faith Along the way

I temper it now.

With a craft that has been long abandoned

The Smitty's Hammer pounds

Less the irony

Directly upon its fated point