All these white skulls in black robes

gather to form a scraping of the Grim Reaper's knuckles

pale bones that crack over a century

flakes fall, democracy a mockery,

society reaching to tug on your regency

swing your scythe, then, amateurs of Death

creeps-to-be, the sleep of the burden

that you miscarry, a jury of a baker's dozen

presided over by pressure, a phantasm form

informing decision, the swift thievery

of civility, it's clear the query presented

and who you answer to are not your people

you have more in common with plague

famine, pestilence, strife and conflict

caused by misjudging your own ability

to walk the edge of a conscience

slick with the blood of right's robbery

go and wet the knife, rest in fear at night

instruments of ****** who play an orchestral masterpiece

if your backbone bent straight with morality,

your souls would leave your bodies out of disgust for the high price due on the lease.