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mother of all woe - wreathe lyrics

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what games have been played with tailored flesh!
the tapestries become bindings in their great length
recording the b*n*l missives of oppression
the fragility of man’s endeavours

they have bestowed us with each link
forged in the fires of partition

the cages wrought unwillingly unwillingly
each bar placed with their own words
with their own words

tears, the blood, the sweat
quotas filled when all are shed
the labours gonе unacknowledged
shackles grimly grеased
the only residue of their toil

she, who stays the raised fist
and fashions blades in secret places

she, the livid experience
who endured the flaying t**th
whose soporific held pain at bay

stone effigy hidden
inside statues to pretenders
we crack the plaster
to reveal her majesty
for the mother collects each woe
as liquor for her engine’s flame
to smite the calloused hand
and cut the bridle’s tethering

the body politic
regains its personhood
its snarl and cunning rage
and claws the eyes unbidden

- wreathe lyrics

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