On the shoulders of Atlas we rely;
Forever doomed to be the tie
Between the Earth and the skies.
Inhospitality: His demise.


He and I are quite alike,
I hold emptyness where he holds skies.
Doomed with the burden of my plight,
My soul as heavy as the ngiht.


He rejected those that came to Him
For He feared that they would sin,
Take golden apples from the tree,
Thus His inhospitality.


I feared only the sins of man,
That those I fed would bite my hand.
My golden apples I did not lend
For I rathered my wealth defend.


Shoulder to shoulder, we now stand,
Night and sorrow hand in hand.
Gods and men and all around
Brought by their greed to the ground.
 
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