the hill
the hill The hill stands still. Who shall save us from its ill ? Oh, i don't mean a metaphor of knights who kill and maim and hate . Oh, i don't mean a simile of values cast in mold , nor do I speak of greatness that has grown cold. We need a knight for in our past we sent them to the night, for in our thirst for ail and dill we forgot that there will come a time to pay that wretched bill. Alas, our hunger shall be growing still for it has come for us. The hill.