  We wage eternal war on the losing side; Ever defeated we by the sinister foe That only pathetic piety seeks to hide In a theological costume of long ago. The goal we seek to attain will never be ours: All our hopes will end in ashes and dust; All our dreams will be dead desolate flowers, Plucked by the pitiless Hand we were taught to trust. Doomed to eternal defeat in the endless strife, Scornful of Chance the Almighty, we worship with pride The divine, frail, terrible Beauty of Life On the Cross of Fate incessantly crucified. |
|
