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