Who Have We Become?

A thousand maiden warriors stood upon the plain of despair.

Their quivers of arrows were useless there

As the plague fell them all by tens of thousands -- children or men -- the hand of fate gave no care

Brutal pain in their breast

Breathing so harsh as to be unfair

The chalice of truth finally broken --

lost to strident winds 

empty words fouling the air

Leading us all to damnation 

Eternal condemnation

Sickness upon sickness

It's all our shame to forevermore bear.