Contorted Monuments

In the nest of newborn idols
Complacent crowds converge
To find emancipation
From the unforgiving torments of a curse

Relentless and concerted
Obsessed to find the source
To point their allegations
Before the callousness of nature takes its course

The strategy has always been the same
Fail, deny, and find someone to blame
Feeding on the shame of those who thrive
To stay alive

This mockery of life
Let them shiver in the shadow
Of their own contorted monuments
And then

Bring back the olden gods
A flawed and violent past
Of mystery and legend
Of fearlessness that will outlast
These feeble delusions
Of the privileged
Of the righteous
Of masses
Of nations
Of rabble
Of followers
Of noughts

Lamentations spawn and fester
Like a plague within its bounds
Propagating onto everything contiguous
This frail, unholy ground
Their doctrine makes an enemy
Of the very virtues that could set them free

Bring back the olden gods
A flawed and violent past
Of mystery and legend
Of fearlessness that will outlast
These feeble delusions
Of the privileged
Of the righteous
Of masses
Of nations
Of rabble
Of followers
Whoa, noughts

Oh, this mockery
This mockery of life

Oh, let them shiver in the shadow
Of their own contorted monuments
Their reign of sin will end