Parched with thirst our cup overfloweth,
With the crimson milk of human blindness,
In charnel towers of ivory besieged,
The bones of subjugation are picked clean,
In barren decadence, tears are the only affluence,
Welling eyes are indifferent, as the blind bleed.
Blood and tear-out damn spot out,
The fruits of perpetual decay,
Pouring the salts in open wounds-out damn spot out,
The scars remain, will stay perpetual decay.
Bloody bands never wash clean,
Abject misery to bleed,
Decadence to feed,
Out damn spot out.
Parched with thirst how the other half die,
Void of compassion our cup runs dry,
With a silver spoon born to dig communal graves,
The only consecration, the economics of pain,
In barren decadence, tears are the fuel of affluence,
Wells of blood run diffluent, a bitter harvest to reap...
