If my wrath broke up tombs and swept away tresholds pushing broken old values into dark pits if my hate would blow rotten words to dust like a cleansing wind through moulding graves Then I could rejoice where gods lay entombed covered with the sands of time beside the keepers of a dying faith Silent are the watchers Even I would love the church if the sun watchers down through cracked domes on the worms below Silent are the watchers gargoyles of a glorious past perc hed upon their thrones in cold shadow cast across infinite reaches unto new morals away from this filthy domain