Prelude: Vultures

Never may the vultures pick our bones When we go down to rest one final time As death for us may be the final crime Down, flaming, we will go with screaming tones

Though time and rain may claw at our gravestones Before the cold is our eternal clime Life and youth assist our endless climb Ever upward, through no restful zones

No bells of victory will ever chime No seating amid wealth on velvet thrones Until the empty sky fills with the groans Of the villain told in ancient rhymes— The vultures will leave nothing on his bones.