Our foes market their false words against our world;
shaping the weak and poor’s filth until their death.
Easily led hasten the scum towards impossible possibilities,
tied as unknowing down inside hidden provenances.
The silliest imaginable is made into normality to grab after
in your own limitless insufficiency that surely is very sufficient,
likely it is us given full meaningless to search there for more…
And the utmost weakest and poorest;
the already dead; outside Asa-knowledge,
paying here with highest imaginable price
inside their unpaid thralldom;
in the filthiest controlled suicide
into the most hopeless condition.
The foes blame what they dragged down to their equal, then the world itself,
and when lowest are here held highest it makes the fools into seemingly rich…
Throw me here your empty threats and objections until tiring,
but all your fears and your death are now not any real concern.
May it all be owned us mutually to be repulsed by our foes junk-culture.
May death cure what forgetting cannot solve.
May the remorse soon be gone.