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Old sweet years of old
Nature, seek perfection
Inhale dread and fear
To protect this false perception
Camouflaged in faith
- mindless, soulless, impertinent -
The scorn of truth lies
At his hand
Culture Cleansing Machine
Points at me with rogue daggers
Wretched means of sheer accuracy
Umber harvest of hate
Ideas to be
And ideals of moral
Undermine idiocy
Like marbles clog a rifle barrel
For the rule of one
Squalling into mass deception
Where blind leads blind
One-eyed kings demand control
Culture Cleansing Machine
Points at me with rogue daggers
Wretched means of sheer accuracy
Umber harvest of hate
Beyond the portal you'll reach
The endless, bodiless imperfection
Write your own decree
And you'll be able to measure all you wish to believe
By abandoning this self-deceit