Zen

The might of man is rubble, tattered land
The true victor
Emerald not iron

Follow the owl, hide from machine
Mechanical scouts, with broken wings
Even victorious you will be empty
The last of hope in the owl’s eyes

Owl at dawn, talons gripping
Spirits lifting beyond blood and pain

Follow the owl, hide from machine
Mechanical scouts, with broken wings
Even victorious you will be empty
The last of hope in the owl’s eyes

Endless should these forest be, uncarved and unscathed
Haze-less skies, only moon, star, cloud in the night

Bronze talons woven in our hair
We smell of wood smoke and rain
Follow the owl, gather the horde
Follow the owl

Endless should these forest be, uncarved and unscathed
Haze-less skies, only moon, star, cloud in the night

Faces painted with blood, human ash
But talons strung in our hair
We rise with the owl
Warriors fall, stories rise