Golgotha
On the side of the great hills she stands, Golgotha, astute and proud, basking in the glory of her betrayal and smarting in the afterglow of murder most foul. Glowing in the dark, her breasts heaving up and down with the afternoon wind, a woman in labour, giving birth to a burden of grief. Golgotha, your time has come, for the basket craves its sheaves. You brought it upon yourselves, when you lusted after his cloak and claimed the crown on his head. You called it all upon thee and thy children, when you claimed a kingdom that was not yours. Deep down you knew that you were nothing without love but you still chose to pick hatred. From a basket of ripe fruits you chose one full of worms and served it up for your children. You washed your faces with the blood of the slain lamb. Why did you become deaf to the cries of the man, and blind to the tears of he that bore the tree? Curse upon thee, land on the hill, curse upon thee. Let the shame follow you every day, and haunt you in your dreams. Let the necks of your sons be burdened by yokes and the breasts of your women be stricken by drought. Let the mouth of your babes be deprived. Let hunger scorch you all, and slavery become your second name. Oh Golgotha why did you choose ugly in a world so beautiful? You chose the burden that your women and men carry on their backs. You chose the yoke that drapes your necks like jewel. If only you knew, if only you believed and kept your hands clean... How did you feel when you saw blood streaming from his limbs? Oh how did you react when the curtain tore in two and the sun went dark? You killed the son of man. You killed your own hope. Greed and pride, Golgotha, is what has brought you down. The lamp of love went out in your hearts and you walked about radiating darkness. You sang not the dirge, when the lamb was taken to the hole, yet you chanted when he was headed up the hill. You became silent, and your women refused to mourn, when he hung up there, covered in nothing but shame. Oh thy end has come, mighty hill. I can see your children weeping every night, afraid of the darkness their fathers brought to them and I see men cowering in fear of what they brought over their heads. I can see the walls of your town tumbling down and crumbling to dust. I see you scattered like axnts, crawling for cover from the angry sky. Let the fingers of evil creep over your land, and bring disease to your hard souls. Let the dust flow into your house and choke the last of breath out of you, oh Golgotha, you are a lost land, for the hill shall turn upside down, and you all shall be infamously thrown into the land of obscurity. You shall become history, and you shall be known no more. You already are a forgotten land Golgotha. Let it be so, let it be so forever.
On the side of the great hills she stands, Golgotha, astute and proud, basking in the glory of her betrayal and smarting in the afterglow of murder most foul. Glowing in the dark, her breasts heaving up and down with the afternoon wind, a woman in labour, giving birth to a burden of grief. Golgotha, your time has come, for the basket craves its sheaves. You brought it upon yourselves, when you lusted after his cloak and claimed the crown on his head. You called it all upon thee and thy children, when you claimed a kingdom that was not yours. Deep down you knew that you were nothing without love but you still chose to pick hatred. From a basket of ripe fruits you chose one full of worms and served it up for your children. You washed your faces with the blood of the slain lamb. Why did you become deaf to the cries of the man, and blind to the tears of he that bore the tree? Curse upon thee, land on the hill, curse upon thee. Let the shame follow you every day, and haunt you in your dreams. Let the necks of your sons be burdened by yokes and the breasts of your women be stricken by drought. Let the mouth of your babes be deprived. Let hunger scorch you all, and slavery become your second name. Oh Golgotha why did you choose ugly in a world so beautiful? You chose the burden that your women and men carry on their backs. You chose the yoke that drapes your necks like jewel. If only you knew, if only you believed and kept your hands clean... How did you feel when you saw blood streaming from his limbs? Oh how did you react when the curtain tore in two and the sun went dark? You killed the son of man. You killed your own hope. Greed and pride, Golgotha, is what has brought you down. The lamp of love went out in your hearts and you walked about radiating darkness. You sang not the dirge, when the lamb was taken to the hole, yet you chanted when he was headed up the hill. You became silent, and your women refused to mourn, when he hung up there, covered in nothing but shame. Oh thy end has come, mighty hill. I can see your children weeping every night, afraid of the darkness their fathers brought to them and I see men cowering in fear of what they brought over their heads. I can see the walls of your town tumbling down and crumbling to dust. I see you scattered like axnts, crawling for cover from the angry sky. Let the fingers of evil creep over your land, and bring disease to your hard souls. Let the dust flow into your house and choke the last of breath out of you, oh Golgotha, you are a lost land, for the hill shall turn upside down, and you all shall be infamously thrown into the land of obscurity. You shall become history, and you shall be known no more. You already are a forgotten land Golgotha. Let it be so, let it be so forever.
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