home of titans — where extension is the frame
remission is the play — in this amaranthine game
in our compulsory advance — the conquest belts the soil
we build loggers of the wild land — that never will recoil
the terms are definite — in this exhausted engine
scarred in the heaven’s blood — and seared into its skin
in the contamination range — the ice turns out insane
and a merciful tariff — does not make us humane
home of titans — where dominion stuns the will
cannibals and ogres — they have a pouch to fill
in our loathsome acumen — inheritance is tyranny
our anima is overcome — and a womb is strategy
a seduction essential — in a lunatic cadence
a perfection of the style — but a murder of the sense
the executive array — operates a mercy-cane
but the occasional pardon — does not make us humane
home of titans — where we shadow our own sun
rapists and assassins — we all become
in our machinery of greed — a life is but a tool
love is a residue — innocent blood is fuel
yes we all partake — in this atrocity
this is the land of the axe — and of the mercenary
then we write out contracts — in order not to cut a vein
but hiding slaughter in four walls — does not make us humane