The hordes of instincts stand tall
To the will of the maniacal
Its mind is boiling angered
And open to strike
Black's your only existence
It's only you and me now
And much to your dismay
Your rights are worthless
Feel pain
My cross will bear for
My cacoethe choices
And a few strikes from this perfect blade
Feel the weight of my own
Empire
Strapped and forced to listen
Echoes of Babylon