The voices clash and debate
Their bleeding hearts flow never-ending
(Like their appetites)
"Left" on a front-line they can't defend
(Why try to pretend?)
Spouting, incentives
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
Swan songs, from death's throat
Boiling in, a plight of circumstances, dismayed
Running off, when raging seas get rough,
To save themselves
We all know this ship is sinking fast
The Captain's on is 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 inscets locked in amber,
They're corpses locked in ice
With silence their companion
And death their destination
They tread, slogging onward,
callously unchanged |
