Fields of overrun earth
Limbs that dance devoid of trunk
Women sunk in mourning
Your gift to our species
We have mourned so many d**hs 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