Words like seeds,
I sow them to smouldering meadow,
meadow of anger.
Breaking loose,
burst into fields of fury,
spreading faster.
Flourishing like sin, surrounding,
become a wilderness.
Too late for the cutting,
tentacles of decay, arise.
The garden of mess.
From the seeds of disorder
To crop of chaos
From your fuckin' domination,
will breed our kind the dogrose sea.
Cut the branches but roots you'll never find,
can't get rid off us.
In the ruins of your realm the endless feast,
when our mission is done.
Hear no commands in this only
natural state disorder won