my heaven could be your hell.
waves of black fuel bring destruction.
legions of lead soldiers wage war.
against the orphans' nation.
satiated apostles of the wrong trade organisation are.
sharing the last meal.
crumbs of globalisation should feed.
the armless fighters from the twilight.
(borders are engraved)
call me number.
my projecting eyes have only one desire, the ruin.
of all these concepts and despots
that make us fighters of the life sickness
----illusion---
this so
controversial hate has become
the vital drink of my sorrow and our inheritance will
never forgive their trespasses.
call us numbers...........
waves of domination build opposition.