Upon the thrones of wretchedness,
Beliefs were fashioned for our creed.
Crowns adorned and proudly worn,
Gemstone constructs of venomous greed.

Along once fresh and fertile fields,
We did spread like winded seed.
Peasants now grim and burdened,
Bearing bitter toils of dire need.

Marching as if in praise of death,
Armies drone on endlessly.
Storms of ideology mixed with power,
Kings of deceit all reign supreme.

Innocents hang their heads,
Too weary to even sing,
The hymn of their own contagion,
The plague mankind doth bring. •