In the dungeons of this night,
some daggers, some knives are in quest.
I stay awake, watching shadows of dark,
creaking silences holding a tryst,
Behind open doors the sobs of a mother so near,
the invaders march not far,
A light eludes, a cloak prevails,
our untold truths sleep under mounds of war
Their crimes ceaseless, denied and remorseless;
Our epitaphs scattered, erased and endless.