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RAHOWA
CULT OF THE HOLY WAR |
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When America Goes Down
When the quick and grinning fire burns our epitaph on ice,
When the mad seas breach the ramparts,
And demand we pay the price;
Will our 'twained lives split asunder?
Will our love submerge and drown?
Will we cling tight through the thunder as America goes down?
When the fungal growth that's fastened on our cities lifts and flies,
When the pioneering spirit of our forebears falls and dies;
Will we still lie curled together in our broken marriage bed?
Will our love still be forever when America is dead?
While the parasite is eating through our sweet and happy dream,
While the nightmare is descending,
And the sleeper cannot scream;
While the night is washed with creeping
In all shades of black and brown,
Will you wash my wounds by weeping
While this land of ours goes down?
When the rising god of history starts to beat the drums of doom,
When this rich and diverse culture seals its democratic tomb;
Will we march along in sorrow with a dumb, funeral tread?
Will we make love tomorrow when America is dead?
As the blood climbs through the rainbow
May I hold your heart once more?
As the color of our skin becomes our uniform of war;
Will your warmth still slide into my grip
When chaos marries dread?
Will your womb receive my worship
When our sacred land is dead?
When America goes down, my love, when the time arrives to pay,
For the malice of the piper and producer of the play
And our image on the screen is of a sad and tragic clown,
What will there be between us when America goes down?
When America goes down...
When America goes down...
When America goes down...
When America goes down...
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