Iraq



Look now upon our fitful sleep, and know
why every toss and turn is stained by power
Crawl back through that dark passage and again
discover all our pretty dreams have soured
The Spiral gathers force and speed, and though
the Desert's banks are lashed by summer rain
the rivers of Democracy won't flow

We've thrown our swords into the Lie: "We die to make men free!"
but you who look upon us must now see
That hooded hordes have gained the walls, and cracked the tower
That even in our dreams we fear the waking hour

O you who look upon us must now know
That even from the fertile soil of patriotic tears
And though oft-spoken Words may come to tame our mounting fears
The gardens of Democracy won't grow

12 April 2004