No Blade of Grass

Unseat the throne of hypocrisy

Who mourns when chaos dies

Relentless strife and delusion

Feeding fevered dreams of poisoned tribes

Who rise together a rancorous afterthought

Orate the funeral call

Every tool and motivation collected

Knowledge of generations

Capacity to become more than we are

A gift bestowed in blood

That we prefer to spill

Drown the land in our lost wisdom

Ripe for the taking

Yet left to rot on the vine

One beast and one alone

Watching ourselves from a distance

Shackled to amity

We gnaw our own limbs off

The diametric confidence

Of weaponizing ignorance

Complete control

An alignment came so close

But that is never who we are

Or where we stop and stand

No blade of grass

These ornate gods are all abundant

And for that we cannot forgive

Blindly we are bestowed as gods ourselves

A pantheon of the undead

Glorious return to form

That much closer to the end

Glorius return to form

That much closer to the end

Every tool and motivation

Collected knowledge of generations

Capacity to become more than we are

A gift bestowed in blood

That we prefer to spill

Drown the land in our lost wisdom

An alignment came so close

But that is never who we are

Where we choose to make a stand

No blade of grass remains