The bold little pearls that cluster round our pens,
Have killed the ones who should have lived and would rather meet their ends.

Tragedy is strategy for those who do not care.
Drown out the stares with alcohol your pockmarked pain you wear.

Dependent on the potion that makes a joker coo.
Suspend o'er the smoke that floats pain and ecstasy through.

Killing thoughts, but saving pain is bound to break you ill.
Hooked round the solid solace of the prisms shown surreal.

Burn the burrowed bulls-horns from your gut.
Drink from the blood of sinner's past while you wallow sway and strut.

Lest you find a deadly blow from pipe and needle's cut.

Quake before your ruler if only for an hour!
He rules your mind with the echoes of this audible power!

Praise him like you would the faith of your mind,
But the faith of your body and soul shall be aligned!

Praise the bass-line as the endocrines race.
The drugs in her pocket with ***** you'll chase.

"**** our futures!
We're young!
We'll rave til the sun!
Our happiness this moment won't relay the deeds done!"

They won't rant while they rage,
Like humans trapped in their cage.

The animals are free 'til they sleep in their grave!
Abandon your god and pray to the rave!

Save from your being what creates your life-song!
As you are known to me you're not wrong.

Don't cower at the sight of the sacred syndicate son.
His business is you and he won't let you run.

He traps in your mind the ghosts in the glass,
Makes you wallow in pain while circuits all laugh.

If you stow all your guilt in a world in a box,
The creeping yellow journal screams when it talks.

"YOU'RE WRONG!
I'M RIGHT!
IF YOU TRY,
YOU JUST MIGHT,
FIND SALVATION FROM YOURSELF,
WHEN I TAKE CHAINS TO BIND YOU TIGHT!"

I realize what death from cages stole my life away at once.
To shut the gate on cynical hate I reload and **** my gun.

3 quick shots the syndicate feels before he falls to the ground:
The individual's sound,
The life full round,
And deaths toll on truth unwound.

ADP and ATP,
DNA calamity.
RNA provides ridicule and cruelty.
Death note delivery.

Blood laughs and screams as it pours from slit veins.
It doesn't care about the souls its owner has stained!
What have you feigned?
What selflessness remains?
None to be sure as parasitic reality you frame.

What are we then?
Surely not worth baiting.
An existential lion's den.
But does it matter if we're waiting?
The most important question is "When?"

We exist to cause our problems,
to eliminate the heretic race.
It's a race that know one wins when,
They always have their problems to chase.

So enlighten us with,
Your sacred soul's bliss,
Or grow up from this tantrum of toil and ****.

Science of religion,
An oxymoron to say the least.
It is one thing to take the message.
Another to let your mind waste.

Savor what you have to the nucleus of your soul.
Know what makes you righteous.
Know it well and full.
Know what you live life for.
We're abiotic to assume that we "know" things we won't search for.

They crawl through the remnants of the ice-cascaded leaves,
They listen to the words and the exhalations that you seethe,

They burn into your mind with their dark and stinging presence,
Out of corners of your eyes flashes their consuming iridescence.

Divided we fall to the evil which careens,
But together on all sides there is nothing unseen.

Our covert chorus will never fall,
To the vine of scales that follows all,

The serpent's slick black viewed through the holes in the walls!

A hiss!
A strike!
Too weak!
Too much like,
The darkest *****.

To  what they are, a slithering mass of serpents crawling,
And brawling with the street rats in the night!