POEM: Salvor Hardins’ song
Image by: ASMAA WAGUIH
In the halls of ancient gods/ Stood men ever at odds/ Their hands raised staves/ Cursed good with knaves/ They told us our morals/ In their ancient quarrels/
Let fall the temple
Around their ears
Then build the temple
To our fears
And the many became one
With much murder done
With no justice blows smart
Life from love does depart
Honour does the heart still
Divine authority orders kill
Let fall the temple
Around their ears
Then build the temple
To our fears
All through history said
With the lips of the dead
Morals passed down rage
Higher with each dark age
Compassion morals rout
Until they burn good out
Let fall the temple
Around their ears
Then build the temple
To our fears
Now we bemoan their lack
As we in their name attack
With such verbal intensity
At each other not inequity
Morals in our eyes smoke
And sympathy does choke
Let fall the temple
Around their ears
Then build the temple
To our fears
Let us set aside our morals
And let’s think of our quarrels
Let’s lower the raised staves
And hear the song of knaves
Why are we still so at odds
Over all these made up gods?


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