Twisting their ****** words into terror
These men and boys who call themselves poets
I cast them down with the power of my voice!
Leaving them but ashes beneath the noise.
My words will carry the death and the doom
Spreading the blood from room to room
I'll end them all and their horrible words!
I'll see to it that they never give birth.
An end to the generation, corrupted by lies!
Their intelligence and wit shall not suffice
My punctuation is perfect, my words are precise,
My power alone shall give birth to demise!
And when it has ended, and when we're alone
We poets of power shall not grieve for the dead
Nor shall their names be engraved in stone
For we are the chosen, we live in their stead.