Pawns & bishops at fray.
At war we wage our earthen way, at war we pretend to play.
Our strongholds we raise up to the sky, in brick we place or trust.
In the image of self righteous man, we worship our own dust.
But just as blind to the future as to our squandered past,
the kingdoms we have sculpted surely will not last.
The earth will tremble, the people rise,
our image rase to the ground,
to the echo upon the shores "be still" it's only sound.