A blacked out sun

This is a plague,
A harmonious disease that spread. Invaded the deep crusted lungs that once saved.
It is easy, no really, to see how it may have led to this.
How the blacked sun with a burnt out ring lead to people fighting, and dying, and lying,
They did not try, or so we are told, to change the ways that their ancestors taught
But so covered in ash are we
We do not see that we too are diseased
Picking at scraps and scabs that bleed
The ones that turned our lungs to lead and spread
To unknown places that lay us dead
We fight for a time when the moon bleed gold
When the sun fell upon our shoulders on a once forgotten boat
But those times have come to an end. Twisted within the desserts wind
Our ancestors taught us well and well this wound has festered
Growing daily in blackened sun while they sing hymns of battles won.

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