Driving the pack, from the rear, with a trumpet, with an axe... with a threat. Driving to the precipice, windswept and wet. We're starving, neglected. Eternally carving my cause on a landscape that's blighted and scorched. I've lighted a torch for the truth. We don't listen, we shoot, from the blindside. It's a landslide, but in hindsight, I thought it was easier. But it's all much too late to turn back, I'd lose face. And you turn on me, faithlessly put me away in a place where my orders are echoes... my torturous ghosts. In a space with no windows, and I'm counting my toes. All this time to reflect on my crimes on humanity. I'm screaming profanities, just give me a chance, I'll start over again. I confess. I confess. Yes, I'd do it again.