A Twisted, Fractured Flight For Freedom Poem by Jack Ashenden

From high, the common horn doth blow, it's sound
a reflection of our darkest low thought.
We cannot escape - this doth confound
all of he'vn and earth that follow we ought.

Fully forward do we march, as dark eyes
do monitor our success
This sensation of the skies controls the minds,
obsession rules and we impress.

Satans CO-operation this we seek -
Far to often, he will not let us speak.
Our reason he needs, and we being weak
give to him freely, no need to be beat.
Authority melts, and with it morale
yet we do not leave, we know it to well.