The velveteen and oaken soothed the lonely child the parents watched the escort take him while they stoodoutside the priest was kind and gentle as he positioned his head the pain was like brimstone, but the kid hardly bled victory instinct over intellect victory it erupts from deep inside history history is laughing at us plotting its discovery victory, victory blame it on the victory among the parade crowd there stands a decorated man remembering how he helped to save this sacred land his helpless enemy was wounded, both hands raised with hope he killed him without second thought, with brute force and a rope so many times, so many lives test the other side waiting to see what the maker has in mind the unsuspecting commoners hum diligent each day they wallow in their father's sins, as time passes away the crimes are without motive but they ignore all restraint the evil sits inside them torpid timing its escape