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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 |
