Ulcerate

The destroyers of all

Ulcerate
They fall from spoiled skies
Strangled of grace
And know only to mask their vile faces

They know not the figure staring back at them
Not their beginning nor end
They surrender in blissful fate

The undying pariah
To which the cowards shun and beg remission
Cold-blooded and callous
It does not grieve

It will never grieve

So detached, the destroyers
Wide eyed in rapture and unfulfilled
In ignorance they remain
Until their ruin

Bring me the comfort of cold inertia
Bring me the graves, poised for our leaden demise

Our extinction, seeded in blind avarice

Come dawn, no light will be thrown on them
This vermin, these ingrates
Us of the earth
The destroyers of all

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