A shift in the golden sands, a peep through the open eye
A cold wind blows and speaks of renewed hostility, after a time of rest
The fly hovers in the eye of the storm,
and there is only silence ...
A lone figure stands at the end of the long corridor
Faceless is the reflection in the mirror, a nameless spectre
a representative of what must come
A mummified statute springs to life,
the wrappings slowly unwind,
and the rotted flesh beneath rises like the ashes
rejuvenated .... the phoenix in flight
round and round the apex of the tallest pinnacle.
Higher and higher the vision rises until the earth is a spinning globe
on a supposed axis, on a table within a featureless room
the open window lets the cool night air filter through
and the sight of smoke drifts into the vision
A tyrant of the silver screen sits silent in contemplation,
his favourite burning stick in hand ... a vacant look in those eyes
Those same eyes then view a memory, protected by the desert sun,
they gaze at the artillery on display,
the same tyrant is dressed for war,
and gazes at figures in black, with edges of white ... elite
Hooded, their faces hidden .... the mummies, zombies
their thoughts written by unseen perpetrators, they are programmed and they are ruled
They are no longer human, perhaps they never were ...
And then the tyrant, his hands are bound, as he sits in an unfamiliar room
he is zombie too, his mind is fragmented, and each part is unaware of all the others
In this mode he is fearful and a slave; a puppeteer, forced to be subjected to sodomy,
since an early age he has been left bleeding and cut, his mind filled with hate
his love for humanity suppressed, programmed into a killing machine ....
Perhaps he is the Anti-Christ ... he is the Anti-Christ ... another cog in that illusion
the ritual which never was which history reports, that which nations have bled for
and countless millions have died for ....
And in other fragments he is loving and caring, a family man
The same silent perpetrators send forth to him whores who care for him deeply
and he is addicted to the drugs he has become so dependent on ....
He is a broken man, he is a chameleon ... he has never been human
Fully aware of the presence in his home land,
the point of the shifting sands and the fear that eyes see,
the enormity the nations of the world are not permitted to see ...