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Doomed
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The Triumph - Spit
The voices of the opportunists will be silenced
It's a matter of the approach
But pestilence tentacles are long
It will be a tough fight
The ravens will be the first of our vanguard
Eyes of the wisdom
If the croaking sounds we are already done
This triumph will be ours
Your dream of the lost paradise
Will end if you asleep
The farewell reveals all your secrecies
You're damned to a silent demise
The seemingly secure upper hand
Will be cut off to you
The rest of you can not touch her again
Indifference will be your final destiny
The end is already been sealed
The ravens will be the first of our vanguard
Eyes of the wisdom
If the croaking sounds we are already done
This triumph will be ours
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I spit my hatred
'On your feet and you conscience'
Over-eaten - 'I am sick off'
Always docile - conformist clones
Tripper of suggestive words
Reviewers of the gluttony
Appraiser of banalities
Beneficiaries and sycophants
All you silent 'smug greedy hypocrites'
Unresisting 'slick obscuring of the truth'
You betrayers
'You feast upon the misery of' innocence
Such a wretched lying
'The perversion purest form'
Overcrowded throats - 'bloated trivialities'
Stupidity 'is chosen as the glorious'
Your whining 'should never happen to a grace'
I speak you from the right to act without penalty
Only a matter of time and you will be accused to be devoured
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