Blankman Cries Again

Barefoot and weary we came to May Valley
Turned to the east and beheld the view
Curious to measure the fever within
Off we went trundling to find ourselves
Remnants of crystal reflecting pretension
Up from the shoulders of one and all
No one could move there was nowhere to go
Slowly we died in the wind and snow

Born from the carnage and cast into darkness
Fell out of wisdom duality
Fragrant of blossom and deadly the thorn
Some born from sorrow and some from scorn
Slowly we walked to the sound of the sunlight
Down to the valley as morning grew
Show me the words I was turning to say
When came the sting of my tasteless game?