Through the eons,
of the history that flows
From magic spells of days,
of days of yore
Within the hights of,
technology as it grows
Forgotten faces of races,
both rich or poor
For the bells toll,
while more heads will roll
No matter the face evil,
it rears it's ugly head
A hate preached washes,
the weakend mind
No matter the nation,
the blood shed is red
Here lies the rotten,
evil side of human kind
For the bells toll,
while more heads will roll
Inside the board rooms,
and deep inside caves
These are places for tools,
of trade of crime
Don't forget the past,
and these mass graves
For it's refected back,
in the mirrors of time
For the bells toll,
while more heads will roll.
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A note from Cyris: M.Mc. wrote this poem but I had to rearranged the line spacing to get it on my site!