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