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Man's ambition

Man's law

Man's design

Man's flaw

Short sighted, weak-hearted

Confusing men with gods

Dealers of torture, nailed down to their fortune

For a dead god taught them the words

They think they're the great commanders of fate

The hands behind civilization

The last march of men, the true last of them

Now their bastards will build their own nation

To ruin

To dust

All for nothing

In wasted blood

To ruin

To dust

In a shining

Shining crown of stars