They shudder with pleasure at the prospect of war.
And laugh with glee as they count their coppers and coin
Their ears are deaf to the mother's cry
Who by their sons' cold gravesides mourn
Demon's twittering and powerful whisper in their ears
As the befouled drink from chalices filled with children's tears
Dressed in man skin capes
Sitting upon thrones composed of endless sin
Around them burn the incense of death
The moans of the dying and lost that so delight them
Will soon be silence of the countless dead
For only slaughter whets their appetite
As dark hearts will follow the path of doom
Unholy thoughts pave the road to destruction
And the penance for their deeds
Awaits them all too soon.
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