It is sin to create
As it is sin to destroy
For every creator
Must know this one truth
That echoes in elders
As it echoes in youth
That for every life given
Death soon must come
And consume all the flesh
From the white bone
And the soul that's within
Will perish to air
And leave nothing behind
For humans to care.

So if the creational wonder
Is corrupt to the core
And the god that invent it
Is but common folklore
What's the point of our being?
I ask you dear friend
Is existence itself
The sin of all men?