[Verse 1] A sword was polished till the daylight ran cold, At the crossroads the empire divided the road. The lot in the right hand pointed toward the gate, [Silence] The pot began boiling; the rust would not leave, [Verse 2] And a crown was removed for an overturning day. Then the desire of the prophet’s eyes was gone, No public lament, no bareheaded song. The house became silent before the streets knew, [Chorus] The pot began boiling; the rust would not leave, Pile on the fuel till the city can see. Personal sorrow became a sign coming true. He did in the morning what grief would resist, [Bridge] The people asked meaning while absence remained. Sword, pot, and silence spoke one severe word: What was treated as untouchable would not escape judgment. [Final Chorus] The pot began boiling; the rust would not leave, Pile on the fuel till the city can see. Sword, pot, and silence spoke one severe word: What was treated as untouchable would not escape judgment.