Pity the plights of the wreckers
lame descenders tied in ***** and chains
restless in the woes of mediocrity inherent
their's is to sweep up the crumbs after the gentiles
lost minds on bottom rungs bemoaning owned short strays
morose in envy and cloaked in inadequacies they squirm in miseries
so a-wrecking the gifted & blackening the shine is worthless pleasure
for the wounded feral dogs only sees enemies as they snarl in pain
to have less is to care less for what is there to matter much
give us the pick axes and the pitch-forks & off we go
we can but seek solace in causing damages
for we cannot have why should you
the age old mantras of the serfs
the blinding religion of the wrecking crews
ingested bitter doctrines of the below average
the vengeance of the pitiful nonentities in pains
we can't all have gold so gold mining is banned
hail the wreckers, hail the feral dogs with rabies