Our outlook is bleak but the moment is grand To be told we're independent is not enough We should strive for autonomous thoughts And your pride in your
This was no upbringing. It only tore me down. I was not taught. I was twisted. This education is deprivation of the truth, halting my growth. Governed
Rather let me fail, than never to have tried at all. Come what may, nothing short of death will see me cry defeat. Rule every moment. Seize every day
Death will end the weakness I am a violent tendency sparked by the words of the world An isolated integrity employing wisdom learned through the search
The salt from my eyes burn As does the acid of my tongue Might a tempest relive me of sound and sight Might I unearth the hatchet and put it to proper
And this is what shall come to pass A new precept for the world to adopt And this is what the children shall learn Prepare for the lowest standard Rough
Gather all we cynics and outcasts- Bastard line of the insensate kindred. Monolithic, we are what won't sway in the wind. We do not fall. As we feel
Here's to you who would ruin creation. Here's to you... See here blind men, we mean to bring you sight. Gaze long upon your wasteland. Into the eyes
We cast no shadow; The stars do not shine here. Be content to light your own path. And burn what you have crossed- The bridges were frail, The people,
But puncture the skin and fracture the bone, The present pain insists we are mortal. Brother, a hammer to the knees disarms even the unassailable. As
Nothing that breathes is above betrayal. Nothing that breathes is divine. - Out from the shadows, well-wisher. The gleam of your blade gives you away
From flesh to steel... I fortify this easily splintered bone Into a stronghold of will, As the balance of man lay beaten In the wake of its own frality
Show suffocation beneath the clouds, The crusade for humanity is nearly lost. Fumes of fould temperament thicken the air, Envenomed by beings of inborn
One scorched, three burning... Worlds given to hell and man is helpless amongst the cincers. How lightly tread we now... - Today is the tomorrow that
[I. THEY CONGREGATE TO MOURN] No, we do not welcome the day, Though we quietly pled for the end inside. Neither time nor daybreak will suppress this
Rest assured... This is sincere. This is true. Let this be my writ of misanthropy To a thankless world of men Who have perfected nothing. Save the art
Without pretennsion. With a sweet chill down my spine... For a time the clouds lift. And what I have resigned to thinking barran Does bear fruit. ~ If