No vile torment in this World of tears
Has bit so deep and willed such fears.
As I lay in the bloodied place
In the blood-soaked pool
In the darkened wood
Where the pain was cruel
There a single figure stood
Thorn-torn with bloodied face.
And I counted with my counting hand
The souls coming stumbling by
All were formed as shaking men
Maddened faces gaped at the sky
And the darkened figure again and again
Wept for the shattered land.
Thinking that I should not yet go
My counting hand kept counting
For the souls fled on, leaping and flying
The numbers mounting and mounting
Into millions lost, it’s pointless denying
Too much pain for one man to know.