We cast no shadow The stars do not shine here Be content to light your own path And burn what you have crossed The bridges were frail The people, pretended Storm forth with the light of the inflamed Reclaim and ignite the sky Brightly to blind Rip off the veneers enabling opportunists to thrive Dam the rise of grime and rats More sickening than a social circle that believes itself charmed Are the writhing droves of blowhards and yes men Clamoring to slither in Stay sovereign on the outside We are who finished last The unaffected Contrasting the wide and white We are who finish last Sound Indignant The iron to gleaming teeth The salt on saccharin We who finish last Proudly in their darkness Lit from within Glad hands grabbing for bra** rings Painting their bricks gold Keen sycophants filthy scheming Furthering the feuds of their adored They have picked their enemies impeccably Very keen indeed And so siege the scorned We are naught but beds of thorns and dark horses Unwelcome guests who will just not mind their place A single musket ball to pierce and lodge inside And lead the circle to crack We cast no shadow The stars do not shine here No genuine light to be found Only rays of cold, synthetic beams on a mock aristocracy so the vain and insecure can feel revered and cared for For a cheap, fleeting moment Truly noble Storm forth with the light We who finish last Proudly in our darkness Lit from within Conflict in the chest To be concerned for the needs of such heartless men