Dead Papers

Democracy dies from a mark on some parchment.

Words spoken before and since.
These times are repeating.
No one is believing.
Obvious it would come round again.
Humanity never learns anything.

Dishonest is how you get ahead.
Just batter and bruise others dead.
Bend them to your rotten will.
Force them to swallow this bitter pill.

Consume and decay.
Or you’ll be swinging away.
A body in stone.
You’ll have died all alone.

With nothing but regrets to keep in eternity.
Don’t ever expect anything but heresy,
For the deeds you’ve done or the roads you walk.
But if you hear a distant squawk,
Know that a carrion calling is the intro to our falling.

We brought this down upon ourselves.
Signalled by these tolling bells.
Justice replaced with division.
Take your dose or you won’t be living,
To ever see another rise.
Instead you’ll be boxed inside.
Windowless box that’ll be your tomb.
This singular fucking morbid room.
Fashioned from the tears of peace,
Shed from democracy did cease.

Bled by butchers with a thirst to consume that should be just.
Wither hope into a twisted shell.
All so they can sell sell sell.
To bidders of suspect morality.
Like those who now control everybody.

All because half of you were tricked.
Stuck to your stupid outdated rhetoric.
Fixated on lies you wanted so desperately to be true.
The ones that are now feasting upon you.

Freedom signed off in blood.
That which once flowed through an innocent.
Does anyone remember those?
No, cause they were the first who got disposed.

So remember well this has been self-inflicted.