As the troubled times knock on our doors Armageddon blowing on war horns Heralds bring alarming forecasts Claiming themselves holy prophets Temple merchants are wreaking woe Setting troops against imaginary foes Their herd battling windmills Acting according their masters’ wills Then inside the towers Resting in the darkest hours Feasting on their tomes Glazing the ivory domes At the feet of the tower, the crawling poor Struggling every day to live another more Won’t you sages descend from your chairs And help us win this cruel warfare? It’s so easy for them having dreams and hope Surrounded by books and telescopes A knowledge sold at high prices As the common majority demises Then, inside the towers Resting in the darkest hours Feasting on their tomes Glazing the ivory domes