I am not he, nor master, nor lord

No crown to wear, no cross to bear in stations

I am not he, nor shall be, warlord of nations

These heroes have run before me, now dead upon the flesh piles, see?

Waiting for their promised resurrection, there is none

Nothing but the marker, crown or cross

In stone upon these graves

Promise of the ribbon was all it took

Where only the strap would leave it's mark upon these slaves

What flag to thrust into this flesh, rag, bandage,

Mop in their flowing death

Taken aside, they were pointed a way, for god, queen and country

Now in silence they lie

They ran before these masters, children of sorrow

As slaves to that trilogy they had no future

They believed in democracy, freedom of speech

Yet dead on the flesh piles I hear no breath

I hear no hope, no whisper of faith

From those who have died for some others' privilege

Out from your palaces, princes and queens

Out from your churches, you clergy, you christs

I'll neither live nor die for your dreams

I'll make no subscription to your paradise