Kwaad Bloed

The glass is broken. The knives are out.
Where voices are trembling, there's nowhere/ no will to hide.
Never undone. Never unsaid.
In time confined but forever condemned.
As one, we reach out.
As one, we abide.
On the first day coming,
the blood will be denied.
The last-born child,
martyr of spite.
On the first day coming,
he will be denied.
From Brother to ghost.
From Brethren to past.
To nothing.
To never.
No more.