Lies of March Three Years, How did they come to pass us? With tear-tipped missiles dropped on Damascus The hallowed call to prayer drowned in blood The hollow fall declaring faith as Scuds Rain down to end a drought of peace Pleas of the devout begin to cease Neither from exhaustion nor from pain But because now they rest with the slain And now the mosque lies beyond the Roman arch From his grave he whispers, “Beware the Ides of March” For on this day Brutus has emerged from his cave No soul in the lion’s heart left to save “The People, The People, The Feeble of Syria” He cries out as he stabs madness and deliria Soul and Pulse escape through their pores Bones and skulls litter the floors Death and Terror have made new acquaintance With those who have lost all of their patience Three years have passed with the souls of the parched #life leaves their lips, “Beware the Lies of March” The demons join in song at the rattle of death The screaming goes on as they battle for breath “They choke, they choke, they die from smoke” Spewing hatred as the devils begin to joke Bullets fly and caw like the crows Circling the dead as they lie in rows They breathe no more and yet the living are the same In rows they stand before God, remembering His name They pray for the strength so they may charge Saying to themselves, “We care not to die in March.” In the pit of the lion, they fight with their souls Herculean might will grant them a pelt of gold Reminiscent of the dove of peace with olive branch in beak In Rome it has perished, So what of the weak? The Crow has torn the jugular vein The Gull swoops low to pick at remains And what remains but pains and screams And hope torn apart by the shards of dreams And so Ceasar rises and looks across the sky “The Ides of March have claimed both you and I”