| Distorted lines of freedom
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| Where the mediocre man prevails
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| Absolute flattery of equality
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| Like the procession of the hearse
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| Slowly leading the lamenting mob
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| To the burial of existence
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| Industrie des fleisches
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| Schlachthaus der Gedanken
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| No more traces of reality
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| It fears, it cries, it hopes, it loves
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| That little sphere filled with fragile life
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| Already crawling into death row
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| Industrie des fleisches
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| Schlachthaus der Gedanken
|
| When followers drown into non-self
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| Irradiated by constriction of mind
|
| A grandiose self arises to stand and refuse
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| The innocence of his peers mangles his deep ego
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| Cracking like whips on flesh
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| Altering his senses until all humanity is gone
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| Perceptions are swirling — visions darkened
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| And as lucidity vanishes — anger is soon in control
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| This outburst of violence — pure and devoid of reason
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| Takes hold of a new reality
|
| He reigns
|
| They fall |