Faces of mirror,
Reflecting ideas of hollow by
Facing each other
Projecting the rays of concepts that claim
To be for a better world
The rays collide, conflicts abide
Concealed intentions are to divulge
And trainers of such thoughts to indulge

No purpose does regard our well-being
Masters of the art of demonocracy
Are here to labor us all
And we will have to serve them all

"Caressed by the tongue of the serpent,
They'll birch us with the whip of blind hatred
We'll be longing for our long gone past
The time when our fathers cared
For people, not their nations.
As we exhale for the very last time
The foul air in our lungs."

The provocation of the real of the void
Opening the gate
To the domain of the Faceless,
Voids who crave fulfillment in their desolation.
The coming tyrants of this world
Of segregated herds of sheep.