• The vast swamp sleeps under murky fog
    An eagle breaks into flight
    And as smoke bubbles from steamy bog
    His cry echoes through the night


    As flecks of steam pass from view
    Grand ruins erect from black murk
    A citadel, long past anew
    In which only memories still lurk


    Perhaps the folk past mountains yonder
    Could learn from old forgotten flaws
    Instead of continuing to blindly wander
    And Constitute pointless laws


    And yet still the eagle flies
    Over memories that have long worn
    And as times flies quickly by
    New citadels are torn