On Capitoline I stand,
And stare out at the bones of Rome.
A city once an idea
That emperors called their own.
What blood drips from her temples,
And flows into the streets.
How was this place of power
Ever made to taste defeat?
Some things are tall and not so wide,
Or wide and not so tall.
Build it and they will come,
More like build and it will fall.
They say every man is captain
Of the ship that is his soul,
But who is at the helm,
And are you sure you’re in control?
What mighty pillars made by man
Have crumbled into dust.
If there's no hope for those that past,
What hope is there for us?
Yet still we build our empires,
And forge them to be vast,
In hopes that when our bodies go,
Some part of us will last.