The world is sick — the same refrain,
And generations bear the pain
Of this foul plague, a curse unspoken,
The end result — a slave, heartbroken.

The lie resounds in every hall,
With wretches working to forestall
The truth, erased by cunning schemes,
A shadow cast on fading dreams.

Truth is Spirit — you’re a part,
A spark within your weary heart.
If survival's all you see,
Then Darkness molds your destiny.