We've seen the Angel of Death
Coerced- his hands we become
His hollow countenance, our own
So many numbered wretches
Disguised as hollow drones
Stalk the night
Fighting non-existent thrones
The empty expression, brow bent in deep thought
The humans we used to be
A garden of seedlings in desperate need
The tide rises quickly
These ideas can save us
Or they can tear us apart
Once we've destroyed the concept
Of the celebrated self and love of art
We can begin the process of growing up
Completely spent
We bit the apple, bought the lie
Exploited the poor and boy did we rise
We snapped those necks and boy did we thrive