Broken Spears lie in the roads
We have torn our hair in grief
The houses are roofless now
And the walls are red with blood

Worrms swarm in the streets
And the halls are splattered with gore
The water runs red as if it were dead
When we drink it tastes of brine

You. Choke. On the dust

We have pounded our hands in despair
Against the adobe walls
For our inheritance is lost, our city is dead
The shields of our warriors could not save it