Age Of Excuse I

A species had been armed with a double edged blade
A guardless weapon of delusion
Forged of a mirage of inherent transcendence
In the tangled mechanisms of life itself

As the curtain is being unraveled
The ego writhes in a spasm of insight
Delighted gods grunt like pigs
At the mere notion of a raison d'etre

From the gardens of semiramis
To the trenches of ypres
A meaningless uproar

Sublime truths are revealed
In the hammering of hobnailed jackboots
And there's wisdom to be found
In the shameful epitaphs of cowards

From the gardens of semiramis
To the trenches of ypres
From the grounds of comitium
To the cellars of tuol sleng
From the spores of presence
And a swarm of pest
Unto the ironies of being

Falling hopes whip the ground
Among laments of sunken millennia
There are no paths to follow
But a nightmare of endless repetition

Those who peruse the annals of humanity
Demanding patterns, connections, developments
Were there any to be found?
And was it sapience indeed that kept pushing this broken cart?

The wonders
The misery
The ascent
The emptiness

Falling hopes whip the ground
Among laments of sunken millennia
There are no paths to follow
But a nightmare of endless repetition