Grand schemes of those unwanted souls, lusting forever for scraps of order- amidst the sea of clones. Trying to find relief, from our decaying bodies of clay confronting mortality, by running to the spirits of fermented sugar Day in and day out, we fervently march towards our destruction, technology is the trigger, rich in the knowledge that, no one want's their memories forsaken Pick up your swords, girdle oneself with a shield of complacency. The sundown, grants you mental solace, as the enemy is at the gates- They've breeched the border You will finally receive due recompose for being rich in being poorer ever lusting forever for a single scrap of order. -HYG
