Contorted Monuments

In the nest of newborn idols Complacent crowds converge To find emancipation From the unforgiving torments of a curse Relentless and concerted Obsessed to find the source To point their allegations Before the callousness of nature takes its course The strategy has always been the same Fail, deny, and find someone to blame Feeding on the shame of those who thrive To stay alive This mockery of life Let them shiver in the shadow Of their own contorted monuments And then Bring back the olden gods A flawed and violent past Of mystery and legend Of fearlessness that will outlast These feeble delusions Of the privileged Of the righteous Of masses Of nations Of rabble Of followers Of noughts Lamentations spawn and fester Like a plague within its bounds Propagating onto everything contiguous This frail, unholy ground Their doctrine makes an enemy Of the very virtues that could set them free Bring back the olden gods A flawed and violent past Of mystery and legend Of fearlessness that will outlast These feeble delusions Of the privileged Of the righteous Of masses Of nations Of rabble Of followers Whoa, noughts Oh, this mockery This mockery of life Oh, let them shiver in the shadow Of their own contorted monuments Their reign of sin will end