Shining sable, silver lined
The morning star once rose
Razor sharp with cruel design
Beneath a blithe repose
Scything through a captive heart
Asunder torn and bled
Assuaging guilt with noble art
To keep a culture fed

Demonized and evilized
Not ever to return
Brutal desecration of your idols
Now they burn with an iron cross

Ancient figurines in stone
Contorted, painted black
Reared upon a morbid throne
With knives thrust in the back
Decorated talismans
Condemned to faceless graves
Dynamite in callous hands
An honour that enslaves

Sacred rites and crystal nights
Shards scattered on the ground
Glory in the ashes
As the tenements go down with iron crosses