Mercenaries Of Strife

The hired fighters are back with barefooted troops of simpletons, fools, who with their small necks
convey the heaps of desolate dairy animals perspiring in servitude, battling
to inspire the divine forces of their despondency.

Broken and battered in the interest of religion what's more, with regards to tribesmen who without mincing words has announced draft and passing upon them that move to their commendation what's more, them that challenge them in their face.

The simpletons; we censure them we giggle at them, we affront them, we mock them, yet, it's them that we stoop and serve.

They battle us for themselves

They execute us for themselves

They guarantee us and our properties for themselves Furthermore, and, and we too battle for them against ourselves preparing the blood of our children and little girls, of our value and ladies In the direction of bad form and eagerness for the support of their coin and statement of faith.

They substance our conflict murmuring criticisms to themselves as they trod the political sections of scheme.

We substance their grins planning to transmogrify the jeremiad of the unfortunate association.

Furthermore, when they accumulate in rebellion murmuring the move of our destiny in their horrifying parcel we should love them that despise as they loathe them that adoration.

While they incomparable over us with steels Lord over us with dangers we stand captivated in the smokes of their mind in the puff of the ineluctable marriage of a mandrill to a monkey.

Give us a chance to cry for the squandered blood of our siblings who set out to be quietly capable of being heard in appeasing the heresy of our dads who united us pretending visual deficiency to the error between the individuals who battle for their divine beings what's more, those whose divine beings battle for.

Give us a chance to cry for the vote based system that kicked the bucket during childbirth viciously killed by bias quickly covered by religion also, supplanted by the disgusting law of master and slave.

Give us a chance to cry for the horrible sign for our undermining for our hopeless destiny destiny of individuals reviled by their neighbors destiny of individuals reviled by cankerworms who finagled their way to the core of our fortunes.

Give us a chance to cry for the scars in the stars for the cup of our brains for the irreverence of the past for the mist of our future for the catches set for our children for the defilement of our little girls for the pool agony of poor people for the impolite ride of the rich for the sore fallacy of our power for the low lies and escape clauses of our law for the harasser of the deprived for the fault and convictions for the evangelists rigid affectation for the flooding grin of contemptuous quietness of them that we importuned and asked for our opportunity and of all that drained