The rise of vengeance and misanthropic thought, within the mind of the abhorred

And so there I was, sitting under a banner I knew to be false, and all of these people were just walking past, trailing everything they held dear. Every hope and fear, every joy and sorrow. Just laid bare for the angels to spit on. I am an angel, and I spit on you.

I wasn’t born with the wings that you wanted,

I aint so sorry that I cannot fly,

I won’t be the martyr you need me to be,

I am the flesh, around the sore.

The sky’s gone red,

But you can’t judge us,

There’s nothing I hate more than a coward,

And you’re so powerless.

The grass around the guns is short,

Your face bleeds threats you cannot speak,

One true god for all our lust,

The beautiful we kill, in our sleep.

I hope to hell you brought your own cross,

Cos I have nothing for you.