The evening

The roofs of the city are ablaze
Yet on the outskirts there are floods
drowning men and damsels
The open sewers are now crawling with plague infested rats
Both running from the water and running from the flame

Through a scream can I see the landscape
The sword falling toward the head
A volcano is the mind
And out on these streets where orphans feed on
the dead rodents they find, there comes a silent scream

Through the scream
Can I see the evening
Can I see the horseman and his bloodstained metal
The canals where life trickles in the form of corpses
being devoured as dusk slowly closes the door

The fire learns walls and ceilings
lighting up the darkness the evening is dealing
The floodwater rises swarming with crisis
Through the scream I see a table
it's the city where the evening throws the dice

An old man sits on the wooden decking in front of his cabin just outside the city
He lights his pipe and laughs
For in the morning they will build it up all again with purpose in their labor