A cycle grim—deceit, decay,
Like penned-up sheep, we waste away,
Dull and blind, we dim the light
Of reason’s flame, once burning bright.
The Spark of God, we crush it low,
Trapped in filth where minds don’t grow.
This wretched world corrupts the soul—
So don’t obey it—stay whole!
Hear your spirit! Walk alone,
Fan the Spark that once had shone,
Let it kindle thought anew—
Rise, revive—the path is true!
Not grotesque, but walking dead,
Greed and hunger drive their tread.
Digging graves, the mindless swarm
Builds the tomb of this deformed—
World of fools, where hollow lies
Feed their "wisdom"—thin disguise.
Like the slugs beneath the brine,
They dissolve in fraud’s design.
Still they crawl, though fear decays them,
Rotting fast while fate betrays them.
Lessons, laws—mere tools of slaughter,
Twisting minds for death, not order.
Flesh remains, but souls are slain,
Dreams replaced with dark domain.
Monstrous visions shape their being,
Life defiled—no sense, no meaning.
Yet awareness, bold resistance,
Keeps the mind from decomposition.
Simple truths, yet long forsaken,
Buried deep, yet not mistaken.
For the soul still hears and knows,
Senses vast, unending flows
Of the Spirit’s boundless world—
One from which we’re torn, controlled.
Built around us—walls of madness,
Hell disguised to dull the sadness.
Bosh obscured with hollow chatter,
Doom disguised for minds to shatter.