The Drowning of Atlantis

A lost tribe 
Beneath the sea 
Long forgotten,where statues stand  


There the man who points at his own stands 
With his left finger, a story to tell 
To please the west, I pity the fool 


I pity the fool in clown cloths
What was he made of, he was made of Atlantis 
Yet to have sunk Atlantis, for 30 pieces of silver 


Be taken ill by delusion, to laugh at his own to others 
For he has been made a guest of Rome 
A' so to think, it is that which blood, runs through his veins   


And serves to deny to death 
The once existence of Atlantis 
I pity the fool, for 30 pieces of silver  


It is he who sunk the last standing statues 
Of Atlantis, just to be given the keys
To the demented houses of Rome 


It is he who sunk the last standing of Atlantis 
Not knowing its true value to give 
Given of  what makes him defined, I pity the fool 


When even foreigners sing praises  
To the land of his make, and rush to become of it 
I just pity the fool, who sunk Atlantis 


For 30 pieces of silver 
And keys to the nut houses of Rome 
To be made head of Rome's degenerate 

I pity the fool 
I pity the fool 
I pity the fool