The Bark of Freedom
listen you peice of rotten soul and insiduous temprement.
you died the second your lung's filled..
your's is the agenda of dark door's and damp bone's.
you make victim's of the weak and weary.
the old timer sat silently,or the young child with not a thought of tainted colour's.
quite you murderous,masseur of mayhem.
your threats fall weakly against the strength of my beleif's.
on the floor scuttling like the rabid snake you are.
death's door will fall on you with the crashing,crushing all empowering bark of
freedom.
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