Blood on my Hands
When I see the towers fall,
It cannot be denied that,
As a spectacle,
It is a realization of the mind.
You see, I’m standing on a mountaintop
And letting out a scream,
It’s the language of the earth,
It is the language of the beasts.
There’s no point to look behind us,
We left the corpse behind,
Because flesh is weak and forms break down.
They cannot last forever.
