Age of Excuse I

A species had been armed with a double-edged blade
 A guardless weapon of delusion
 Forged of a mirage of inherent transcendence
 In the tangled mechanisms of life itself
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 As the curtain is being unraveled
 The ego writhes in a spasm of insight
 Delighted gods grunt like pigs
 At the mere notion of a raison d'etre
 From the gardens of semiramis
 To the trenches of ypres
 A meaningless uproar
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 Sublime truths are revealed
 In the hammering of hobnailed jackboots
 And there's wisdom to be found
 In the shameful epitaphs of cowards
 From the gardens of semiramis
 To the trenches of ypres
 From the grounds of comitium
 To the cellars of tuol sleng
 From the spores of presence
 And a swarm of pest
 Unto the ironies of being
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 Falling hopes whip the ground
 Among laments of sunken millennia
 There are no paths to follow
 But a nightmare of endless repetition
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 Those who peruse the annals of humanity
 Demanding patterns, connections, developments
 Were there any to be found?
 And was it sapience indeed that kept pushing this broken cart?
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 The wonders
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 The misery
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 The ascent
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 The emptiness
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 Falling hopes whip the ground
 Among laments of sunken millennia
 There are no paths to follow
 But a nightmare of endless repetition