| The voices clash and debate
|
| So many wrongs to right
|
| Their bleeding heats flow never-ending
|
| (Like their appetites)
|
| «Left» on a front line they can’t defend
|
| (Why try to pretend?)
|
| Spouting invectives
|
| One way directives
|
| Sleep well, night-watchman
|
| (Privilege has its own objectives)
|
| Blind ambitions
|
| Death processions
|
| Selling our tragedies
|
| (Emotional pornography redeemed)
|
| Partisans, wake the world to sorrow
|
| Pantagruels, rouse your buried woe
|
| Partisans, face your black tomorrow
|
| Swans songs from death’s throat
|
| Boiling in a plight of circumstance, dismayed
|
| Running off when raging seas get rough to save themselves
|
| We all know this ship is sinking fast
|
| The Captain’s on his own
|
| The devil’s die is cast, for Eschaton
|
| You fuel the problems you profess to solve…
|
| Our weary world embedded
|
| With avarice and vice
|
| Like insects locked in amber
|
| They’re corpses locked in ice
|
| With silence their companion
|
| And death their destination
|
| They tread, slogging onward
|
| Callously unchanged |