When the lights go out

Cry for the children of man
Ten score one thousand
Bleeding at the lips

Let them in I cry to no avail
Blank faces peer at them through
Shrouded sycamore trees

I watch them die in manners obscene
Pounding on the door
Searching for a key to forgiveness

But it dangled too high on an architrave
Jiggling in the wind on the end of a peg
Never to fall

Desolation angels flew over ripe pickings
Filling their quota for the millennium
Souls flying free of the battlefield

Bones crushed under rolling tanks
Cracking with a sickening yell
Pull up and take a look

Watch the cinema screen detached
The images come and go
When the lights go up the Truth is there