Fields of overrun earth
Limbs that dance devoid of trunk
Women sunk in mourning
Your gift to our species
We have mourned so many deaths caused by your greed for gold
Yet still nothing compares to your holy abstinence
Liberation of all men is venom to your teaching
I am no pity slave that you could spit on
Scorn consumes me while tasting your false truths
Cripple is what I see when I look at you
Our tears – the bitter sea
Trying to break the chains
The last link of our leash
Will become your personal thorn