The night is pulsing…... like a heart made of tar,
a steel serpent slithers across the names of cities.
Sirens howl like starving wolves,
while the sky cracks open — lightning carved like tattoos.
There’s a smell of metal running through the veins of the wind,
the streets cough up smoke and betrayal.
Down in the basements, eyes hang like crosses,
war chews on lives… and spits out nothing but VOICES.
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NO WAR! — it’s an earthquake ripping through our breath,
NO EARTH! — if you feed it with your neighbor’s blood.
We trample the shadows, we break the beast,
peace is a scream of flesh that cannot be broken!
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On burned stones walks a ghost of a man,
his skin covered in dust and karma.
His gaze is a well, black as the bottom of thunder,
he’s seen it all… and no one will give him back the day.
A woman runs barefoot among gutted walls,
holding memories, ripped-apart fragments of stolen moments.
War is a ritual of ancient madness,
beating the drum of the dead like a funeral MARCH........
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NO WAR! — it’s an earthquake ripping through our breath,
NO EARTH! — if you feed it with your neighbor’s blood.
We trample the shadows, we break the beast,
peace is a scream of flesh that cannot be broken!
---
BOOM! — the altars of power tremble.
BOOM! — the wax masks collapse.
BOOM! — a chorus rises from the guts of the earth…
a forest of bodies that refuses war!
The heartbeat climbs, climbs, climbs,
like magma searching for the light.
Not to destroy…
but to awaken the ones who stay silent.
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NO WAR! — we break the wall of pain,
NO EARTH! — if you cover it with a shroud of horror.
Out of the world’s cracks explodes a new chant,
a tribal heartbeat…
a cold-blooded EARTHQAKE!
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Mirco
