The sins of our forefathers
Would not survive past our reign
As fruits we were held delicate
On branches of the family tree without blemish
We dangled green and we grew with age count
We gained weight and substance hold
We matured and became ripe as apples
To be plucked by birds or another
To be weakened and bound in transition
To fall to the ground as humble
Alone and vulnerable we rot to the ground
To relinquish our old define
To the seeds that sit in our hearts
To the soil that entombs us
Until we find our selves no longer
Protectorates of our forefathers
We grew as trees, with branches wide
To bare fruits that dangled as off-springs
They would not know the sins of our forefathers
But only as heroes who once lived
And carved this route, a lego brick wall
With the blood that flows in us
The sins of our forefathers
Would not be known past our reign
It is as tradition demands, a humans
Not to speak bad of the dead
For no saint walked this earth as clean
As allowing heroes to be made of our forefathers
