Hell finds the pavement bent and torn
Rips through the ashes born
In the world of undertaker’s masks
The futile human race of tasks
Marking the soul for extinction
In hands that hold only bits of blades
Leaving the weak to suffer graves
The streets that know no face of grace
Shatter the guilty all over the place
In every possible direction
Those raising minds of mutated thought
Chemically balanced by others taught
To sacrifice all for the sake of simplicity
Battling time yet never get free
Of the force of their creation
Silent minds and voices loud
Reversing it when in the crowd
All the phobias we can diagnosis
What is the one that gives up the ghost
Senselessly to its frustration
Forever building the undefineable
To have an excuse to be knowledgeable
And divide instinct from knowingness
Endlessly with the soul at risk
Marking it for extinction
-Shabetei
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