Violent is what they are

On a domain of thirst and bloodlust

Within one of the stages of evil

Monarchs of blind lions


Savage and revengeful

Originated from hatred

Looking for a clean room

To be destroyed and burned


And I guess I know

Why they are what they are

They’re a victim of a cycle

Undisturbed cycle of repeated pasts


Recognize no smile

Keeping negative on their side

Befriending demons of the nights

Scavenging through piles

Of used light and eaten fire

To keep breathing and walking


From inside they’re longing

For the others who are living

To give a hand and to reach

But violent is what their world is

And a masquerade is keeping them in

Never getting out, already giving in

Never to feel the sun, devastatingly screaming


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