The Dead World - Trigger the Bloodshed

Immersion, destine of the terra firma marched upon by the execrable*

An unthinkable atrocity plaguing the conscience of men and women alike

This ambiguous world, with it’s many curses

Has fattered its weak, its undeveloped seeds

Exempt from inferiority the wealthy stop to gaze

The tolerance to watch an entire race fall is lame

Humanitarian charities take it upon themselves

Inadequately begging, for the bestowal of

Riches to save those that cannot be preserved

As well as our own indebtedness to our stealing overlords

As every country in the world descends

Further into incapacity

Summits cannot see eye to eye

Unifications of axillary indigents begin to die

With no trace of their existence

Writhing in the torment the incarnations of adversity

Owing but a wearisome recognition to the humane race

Embodying all that is their misery, whilst a minority

Pose witness to the omission of an origin

Realism clutches away hope, faith and conviction

Lazy is exhaustive humanity at playing the courageous

Divide of reimbursement for the grind

Holding back from the obscenity of conflict has destroyed

And crippled territory of development

Scandalous countries, unwilling to reconstitute their cities

Apparent malignancies, attributes to the prevailing world

Independent nations left to drown in poverty

Little known countries overflow with epidemical torment

Now fragmenting, without the aid taken from them

Colonies withering away, distressed, crippled hands

Outstretched in vain, To a sinfully commercial deity

Whilst it scrutinizes with an absent mercy