Broken Windows

Broken windows in the dark-- Torn apart by lusty needs. Does the pagan thirst succeed-- Or does it crumble into a used up heap? Does it glisten like the sun-- Tempting those who have not won? Where do the dead men go-- On the shores of milky bays, Or do they scurry through lonely ways? What becomes of the sharpened knives- Are they thrown or do they die? Where does this vicious cycle end-- In a friendly fire or a peaceful land?