14 December 2012
Evil fills the room, hatred at each glare, they throw lies at me without caution, such deceptive flare.
They say what they do is all for me, professions of those who care, falsehood penetrates with their sinister stare.
They can do anything for me, just name the price, the poor need not ask for aid, this is not a free crusade.
They are servants who give you what you need, it is the power of wealth, in which they feed.
So if death beckons you with no money abound, your body thrown to beasts, your final screams the only sound.
Loathsome • Opuss № I