To dust you shall return

The earth was carved with blades of grief
The saints were sold for bread
The generals kissed the lips of war
And crowned the newly dead

I saw Achilles limp through smoke
With blood upon his hands
Jerusalem was built of bone
And Europe turned to sand

A phantom horse with glassy eyes
Rode screaming through the land
The children knelt to nameless gods
With rifles in their hands

Drink, my love, this bitter wine
The prophets do not lie
The kingdom feeds on holy bones
And laughs while angels die

The leaders lean like drunken kings
Their crowns dissolved in rust
The angels sell their harps for ash
For a mouthful of holy dust

They traded children for a flag
And crowned the starving beast
The generals drank blood like wine
And danced in war's cruel feast

This is the land of the brave.