I see the world in shambles, ruined,
I hear a sick, plagued child wailing,
I smell the daily hundred corpses,
I taste the air, corrupt with sin.

I grasp the stone-cold hand I'm handed;
I sense the stone-cold tainted heart -
I hear the piper's notes call "follow",
I see the piper's knowing grin.

I see a swarm of zombies marching,
I hear a whip which parries doubt.
I smell the scent of wounds untended,
I taste the scarred land's salt-free skin.

I cringe at thoughts of bland euphoria -
I'd label heaven's gates malfeasant,
I hear a preacher speak of goodness
And see that preacher plaguing children.

I see a world of mass corruption -
I see not a single innocent.
I feel a strong, defiled foulness,
I cry because it's from within.