cre we holy works of art?
Or the kings of pretension?
Why the hell should we decide
Who will get to live or die?
cre we holy works of art?
Or is that our own invention?
To justify that we'd be meant
To decide which being should die?
cnd in a way we all are the abettors
We got the world in our hands
We use that power to whelm
The tombs we have at our feet
cre we the thinking animals
In this decline with many declensions?
It could all be rectified if we swore, you and i
Let's realize we are slaughtering our emotions!
Our bodies and the earth's alike