Dawn - The Nice

Dawn, the innocence and purity of a newborn day

Unspoiled as yet by the tarnished hand of waking man

In its innocence, it knows not of her plan

Swellings turn on as the machine starts

She, for dawn is surely a maiden, is born and raped

365 times every year since the beginning of time

She, for dawn is a maiden, returns completely innocent

It’s as though she smiles on the January red

And at first she cries at the first thrust of summer

Dawn is pregnant with promise and anticipation

And is murdered by the hand of the inevitable

But yet dawn has forgiven us for the sins

Men wrought on her