Standing beneath the shadow of the man, even here he begins to step.
Those most sacred of places, defiled by his ugly vision.
He brings nothing but destruction, despair and division.
Here once where where we freely roamed - now; monitored and regularised.
Standardised and sterilised.
A sadness creeps and overwhelms as the shadow casts
With his eyes so far ahead following his pointed finger.
He forgets to seek the ground upon which he walks
It is a forecast of change, a forecast of destruction
As the shadow walks, repeating the vision of those before him
Repeating the mistakes, as yet again he refuses to hear the people
As his feet crush and shadow stretches, the crevices are filled with sorrow
And no one dares strike a match for fear his shadow snuff the light
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