Death Upon The Head Of Sinners
We may visit death upon the head
of the sinner but to what avail?
In the name of retribution,
we took part in a bitter
comedy this day.
You, hanging as you do,
by your neck,
Unforgiven and cursed by all.
Five of them committed crimes,
six went out for a drink and
were captured there.
Only one of them was innocent,
but they knew not that.
The bloodstains remaining
are proof of their guilt.
Trodden upon and thus created,
they are paths to
Hell or the Void.
The white bandages stained
with crimson,
The remains upon the scorched
black earth,
The whispered cries of
the maiden.
They are but meaningless
contract.
They are also signs of guilt.
But one of them was
done without reason.
It was done out of fear
and a ripe imagination.
Sinning alone at the
end of a rope,
it is nothing less than
a disgrace to us all.
