| They fall from spoiled skies
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| Strangled of grace
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| And know only to mask their vile faces
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| They know not the figure staring back at them;
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| Not their beginning nor end
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| They surrender in blissful fate
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| The undying pariah
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| To which the cowards shun and beg remission
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| Cold-blooded and callous
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| It does not grieve
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| It will never grieve
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| So detached, the destroyers
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| Wide eyed in rapture and unfulfilled
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| In ignorance they remain
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| Until their ruin
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| Bring me the comfort of cold inertia
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| Bring me the graves, poised for our leaden demise
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| Our extinction, seeded in blind avarice
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| Come dawn, no light will be thrown on them
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| This vermin, these ingrates
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| Us of the earth
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| The destroyers of all |