when honour strikes

We honour the dead,
We give them a place,
In a book,
To rest their wiry heads,
They've come a long way,
Such a long journey,
Climbed such obstacles,
Beyond you and I,
We are two,
Small insignificant individuals,
In a giant town called society,
When you pass you smile and wave politely,
So discreet,
Not to let on a single thought.

When honour strikes religion a spectacular sprit of elution appears,
Your hand is in front of your face,
You bow to your king with style and grace,
Respecting tradition,
Dropping ammunition at his feet,
He'll blow up,
Oh yes he'll blow up,
Just the same,
You can't escape the anger,
Can't escape the anger of royal pain.

The great ones to come and pass,
Have set us out for a steadying stream of life and dead,
Swim or drown,
Your only options,
Make a difference break these chains,
These chains that forbid,
Forbid a forgotten love and ally,
These chains of religion and prejudice.

When honour strikes religion a spectacular sprit of elution appears,
Your hand is in front of your face,
You bow to your king with style and grace,
Respecting tradition,
Dropping ammunition at his feet,
He'll blow up,
Oh yes he'll blow up,
Just the same,
You can't escape the anger,
Can't escape the anger of royal pain.

So fast so clean,
He looked charming upon that alter,
When struck down the stream of death sank upon him,
Creeping up,
Showing no vital signs,
It swam upon him and devoured him whole,
He floated,
Body bloated,
Down his stream,
Into darkness,
Down to an abyss of empty nothingness.

When honour strikes religion a spectacular sprit of elution appears,
Your hand is in front of your face,
You bow to your king with style and grace,
Respecting tradition,
Dropping ammunition at his feet,
He'll blow up,
Oh yes he'll blow up,
Just the same,
You can't escape the anger,
Can't escape the anger of royal pain.

This nothingness,
This nothingness,
Was powerless,
To the light,
The light that could fight for the right to his life,
It had so suddenly stole,
The fought for the land and the deed to his soul,
They had a battle of worldly proportions,
Wiping living cities clean,
Dead,
Quick,
So silent they stood,
Dead of all life,
Dead of all knowledge,
Dead of morals and boundaries.

When honour strikes religion a spectacular sprit of elution appears,
Your hand is in front of your face,
You bow to your king with style and grace,
Respecting tradition,
Dropping ammunition at his feet,
He'll blow up,
Oh yes he'll blow up,
Just the same,
You can't escape the anger,
Can't escape the anger of royal pain.

© Becky Baillargeon 2010