Jim Horde - #4 Lyrics

The war chief's log
Inferno
Hell
The eternal pit of suffering at the hand of lucifer
Many have tried to define it
To describe it
And in a poetic yet twisted sense
Romanticize it
Many have tried any many have failed
But I have seen it
Damnation purging my once virgin eyes
I wish I could unseen it
I wish I muted my ears when he told the stories of old
But it is important we remember this bloody history
For the sake of our own humanity
To ensure we do not repeat the mistakes of yesteryear
This is the one true depiction of hell and it starts
With a Cambodian nepo baby
And a average carpenter at best
His name
Pol Pot
After studying abroad in France
And becoming indoctrinated by communist ideology
He returned home
And during the Vietnam war
He rose to power and took over Cambodia
Inspiring the masses to join his side
And in his tainted vision painted in red stripes
Inspired by the likes of Mao
He wished to turn Cambodia back into a agrarian society
An ultimate self suffocation economy
That would turn the clock backwards
And they would become the
Once glorious farming nation of yesterday
It didn't work
Within hours of his reign to power
He evacuated the cities and displaced thousands
Sending them to the killing fields
I'll never forget it
Nore be able to unseen it
S-21
The once primary school turned into a political prison
Where only seven out of twenty one thousand
Prisoners survived
The thousands of skulls behind tainted glass
And that one deadpan tree covered in coloured bracelets
Sitting on the skirts of Phnom Penh
As the rosters picked crumbs around it
At first it appears to be nothing more than a memorial
Aside a ditch where bones still remain
Peaking through the dirt
It only becomes as harrowing through conversations
It is recalled that this tree was used by Pol Pot's army
The Khmer rouge to destroy the will of female prisoners
The soldiers would snatch the babies of their mothers
Force them to sit and watch, as they mocked them
They would grab their babies
And swing them as hard as they could
Into the tree
Smashing their skulls onto the wood
They did this to ensure none could ever
Seek revenge to the regime
Having a strong sense of belief that to eliminate hope
You have to kill the entire bloodline
After the baby lies in a pool of its only blood and guts
The mother would weep
Meeting a much similar fate
She would of most likely been mutilated and sexually tormented
Her knees scrapping on the grass
Covered in cuts and blood
Until they finally grew bored of her
Stabbing her to death
The tree is known as the Killing Tree
And it remains at The Choeung Killing fields to this day
It was only last year when I saw it with my own eyes
That tree
That tree right there
Is hell
Between one point three to three million
Perished under Pol Pot
Almost 1/4 of their entire population
We can never forget the atrocities
That occurred during 1975-1979
But
Look at the world now
Look at Palestine
Look at Congo
These disgusting atrocities stemming
From western intervention
Are they still going on
Children are still dying
And blood is still being spilled
Every thinks Danto's is some
Phenomenal
Once in a generation poet
That depicted hell in the must correct way
But I don't see it like that
And I don't think you would
If you've seen that tree
I bet you would think otherwise
Just like I did.