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The Firstborn
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Jerusalem 1099
'Years, decades, centuries it seems have passed,
Since leaving that I once called 'hone'...
On to find the most holy sepulchre
In the city of God, Jerusalem itself...
Fire and blood seem the only faith we spread,
Death and pain, and also wealth for some...
For we were promised eternal salvation
Upon reaching the TOmb of Christ
I know, though, that I've felti ndeed the fear
Of finding, of reaching, someday, the true 'me'...
Such is our crusade...
Our Holy Pilgrimage...
Our divine (or not) fate
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To gaze upon a mirror's image
And look upon our souls...
To rid oneself of the Woe,
And do battle Antioch's ghosts
Such is my dark-hearted crusade
To battle the guilt, the anger,
And, at last, finally, the silence...
The maddening silence!
Will their spirits ever leave me?
I wonder what destiny holds for me, in the white walls
Of the holy city. Jerusalem...'
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