oh Nashville,
Athena’s wrath teases you,
like some game with mortal lives
is all it is to goddesses,
no matter how tall your glory stands
in steel and glass,
I, too, cast lots with lies,
while winds still blow down from Olympus
and chill us straight to the bone,
do not let this heart harden you alone,
sweet empress,
let it rest,
let it rest,
while all us soldiers
go on hoping for the best.