As I walk down the line
I look to my left and I see
The Lady of Mists rising out of the water
She has started the Dance of Rain
With a white cloud billowing around her towards the sky
The water comes up with a rise of her hand
The waves crash in an obedient blue surge
Foam fizzes as it collects on her feet
A pure white unaffected by the son
Her sapphire hair flows down her back
As a waterfall cascading to the ground
Shes beckoning all that wish to come
Her eyes inviting those who see
Or wish to see
In one hand she holds the Truth
In the other the Lies of Generations
From her beauty radiates in an unearthly blue glow
The smell is sweet and deceptive
Choose wisely which hand you pick, I was told
For truth is often sought but can it be found?
Still she beckons, but I have made up my mind
I look ahead and continue to walk the line

As I continue, I look to my right
Rome rises up out of the darkness
The leaders are shadows without a voice
Their mouths open and spew wordless hate
They are transparent, stacked on each other
As they look forward at the wall
Made of dust, it flies upward
Their grand accomplishments flash before their faces
Not so grandiose now that they have crumbled
As all temporary things do
Indistinguishable, it is impossible to tell
One from the other, or whose they are
Books and ruins are all that remain
Of the powerful regime that once was feared
Suddenly it begins to transform before me
Familiar images flood my eyes
Garish colors inhabit my thoughts
Corrupt feelings invade my heart
Roaring monsters made of steel
Rumble by paper monstrosities erected on the side
Flashing pictures ove