Under the crimson sky

Under the wild Crimson sky,
Where the kites and swallows fly,
There is a place for people as such,
Who didn't amount to very much,
The Broken Dreamers,
All tears and Paint,
The Shattered Hopes,
Who's hearts are now faint,
The Unloved Lovers,
Who now are weeping,
The pacifist fighters,
who's blood is seeping.

These are the heroes of ages gone by,
Their goodness forgotten their tales left to die,
But don't seek in the lonely council of age,
as shakespeare has said, "the world is a stage"
the people you're looking for aren't out there at all,
They wait in the wings for their opening call.