The world is open, the world is free, you could have been anything you wanted to be, seen every place you wanted to see. You needed not crawl and break your knee. Don"t break your knee. You could have stolen the key from Peter's hand and brought your tyrants down. It could have been beauty, not burdens and coils, the gallows and the b***** soils, the unmarked graves and sharpened knives, the prison cells and broken lives. You speak in moans and sighs and your towers collapse as you reach the sky. You have become death, destroyer of worlds, with no sanctuaries in your netherworld, where the churches and havens are monuments to fear. Monoliths of the doom in your heart and soul. So in the end, for there is an end, when you shudder and sigh, bent and broken, worn down and worn out, you will ask yourself: 'what have we gained?' Three words will answer you: soot, smoke and ash.