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The mother’s milk is poisoned

Sweet, corrupting nectar

A fragrant liquor burning

In your mouth

A thousand voices singing

Praises, hoarse with fervor

To drink the dew that glistens

On the venom fang

Fumes are rising

From the rotten earth

Fetid air

Fills ravaged lungs

Breath comes out in curses

Upon the weak

From the hearts

Of those weaker still

It’s in the blood

In your wells

A din of doom

A desperation

A call to arms

A detestation

Keep inhaling the poison

Keep extoling the chosen

Dead verses spit from your tongues

Gasping breath kept from your lungs

Contorted faces haunted by your self-made greed

While you shovel wealth into Moloch’s maw

It’s in the rot

In your walls

Face unrest

In the year of the plague

It’s what’s coming

It’s what you’ve made

It’s in your streams

Your hate-filled dreams