At last, as we plunge into the abscess
Blighted spirits so bereft
Shameful weeping, voices echo from the bottom of a well
Can you hear the cries of worn out phrases
From listless gazes, pretentious lingering in childish phases
The heartless hand and empty gestures
The pitiful searching for hollow pleasures
Lost in a palace of mirrors
Staring at infinite reflections gazing back
Too near to see the mark of shame
Lost in empty dialectics, the art of building up and tearing down
Of discussing all things and accomplishing nothing
Of compromised ideals, friendships abandoned
Our works substandard, principles meandering
So speak our names as a warning, as a curse, as a failure
At last, it's time to die, so die
