Trigger The Bloodshed The Dead World
Immersion, destine of the terra firma marched upon by the execrable*
An unthinkable atrocity plaguing the conscience of men and women alike
This ambiguous world, with it's many curses
Has fattered its weak, its undeveloped seeds
Exempt from inferiority the wealthy stop to gaze
The tolerance to watch an entire race fall is lame
Humanitarian charities take it upon themselves
Inadequately begging, for the bestowal of
Riches to save those that cannot be preserved
As well as our own indebtedness to our stealing overlords
As every country in the world descends
Further into incapacity
Summits cannot see eye to eye
Unifications of axillary indigents begin to die
With no trace of their existence
Writhing in the torment the incarnations of adversity
Owing but a wearisome recognition to the humane race
Embodying all that is their misery, whilst a minority
Pose witness to the omission of an origin
Realism clutches away hope, faith and conviction
Lazy is exhaustive humanity at playing the courageous
Divide of reimbursement for the grind
Holding back from the obscenity of conflict has destroyed
And crippled territory of development
Scandalous countries, unwilling to reconstitute their cities
Apparent malignancies, attributes to the prevailing world
Independent nations left to drown in poverty
Little known countries overflow with epidemical torment
Now fragmenting, without the aid taken from them
Colonies withering away, distressed, crippled hands
Outstretched in vain, To a sinfully commercial deity
Whilst it scrutinizes with an absent mercy