Poisonous flowers of violence
Grow and prosper everywhere

No prophets left to see the crime
No one feels the pain done
Like a mountain stream
Мiolence devours the stone

Inglorious powers burn the crown
They meanly crash the roots
I will never forget your boots
On my face

I grow a tree out of the blackest seeds
I water it with violent deeds
And when I harvest all the thoughts
I turn them into bloody spots

My tree springs up of all the dark
I cherish it with silent notes
And then, I harvest all its fruits
My needs are never satisfied