Guillotine

hear our ugliness
taste the fumes that lull our children to nightmares
on the fields of hatred
this caravan moves twice as fast as we need to

would the sunset look more beautiful
if you knew it'd be the last time?
would the water taste as sweet as the first kiss
and burn with the same desire?

everything we gather and end up with
just a reflection of how lost we are
hands that once kept the flame alive
is now pouring out all that we got...

if all this was over
before we lay besides our loved ones again
would we still cry out for our rights
and for the shelter
swept away by the rain?