Burn Out These Eyes Eyes Until We Scream

"enough!" Such Is The Nature Of Our

Struggles. Hampered By Naught But Our

Own Sight Of The Laddar's Rungs Begun

Halfway Up. But Still We'll Climb, Hand Over

Mouth, Fist Over Thought, Despite Our

Numbers. Break The Seal While Growing

Still. Once More Over The Top, Friends!

And Rising Still The Aesthetic Of Action

We've Idolized. Coupled With Our Position

In This: A Median Within The Din Of A Bleating

Servitude. Low Enough To Feel The Boots

Of Rome, But High Enough To Cut The Heel.

What Good Are We Now? Left In Transit By

A Legacy Of Thought That Acted Very Little

In Teh Name Of The High Enough To Learn,

But Low Enough To Fight From The Outside.

Cut This To The Bone.

Assemble All Yours. Call On The Allies. This Is

The Arming Of A Nation Under All Signs.

Bring Out The Banners. Proclaim The Marches.

This Is Our Bloc Of Many Colours.