And a few hundred years later, in a future many times far
better,
they batter and assault, reject and revolt,
without repent, like a disease they scatter.

Faceless faces just gaze from the paper, printed red on
recycled white,
with terrific madness, violently aimless,
darkness dimming the strongest of lights.

Redefining the laws of insanity, possessing the trophy of
hate,
late to fix what's broken, neglected heart stroking,
ignorance seems like a question of faith.

Wrath, concentrated, every time, now and then,
spun is the wheel of my loomed discontent.

Helplessly browsing through terrorist acts,
knowingly avoiding my payment of debts.
Can't withhold the beast, my crow's beak is pecking wildly,
panicking leak of suppressed definings,
findings - frost and invisible ghosts - keep binding,
specially caring where compassion's starving.

Craving for aching for cure to this headache,
the world's mouth is open wide with panic,
screaming, fighting, shaking fear off it,
crying what the fuck are you doing on me.

Get off, fuck off, let go of your pain,
stranded in alleys of hate's domain,
desperate black knights with their bloody axes,
pursuing murder with growing impatience...
In their eyes sanity's flushed down the drain.