Lifting of the Veil

[IoBoI]

The veil is being lifted but the Pale do not seem gifted
The hail is ever growing but the blind chase their tails never knowing
You are a star, meant to shoot far not clogged down with tar
Insufferable masses, we are ineffable classes, they choose material over the hearable. What is a man without will? What is a can if not filled? Blind men sit like kings but they are hens in our ring, they lay eggs so we may feast while they lack legs so they are the least. We are the meek, they suck on the material teat. Think I give a fuck about your drama? Run home blink your tears away with mama. Years of anguish unforgotten tears never perish your will, will be begotten. The world is yours to claim you do not need the fame, they are the lame, you are a flame, burn bright in this game. The leaders have been willed to suffer the readers have been filled with supper.

The earth will quake, your hearts may shake, the toxic thrown into the fire to bake, they take, they rape, while you sit on your ass and stagnate, but who can debate when this lifestyle feels so great? Who can dictate a purer world but that of fate? In my heart I hold hate but I keep it on a leash, I sit and wait. Do not be mistaken, I will employ death as a bird feeder to the raven, he is awaken and he sits in your “haven” he’s an old friend come to watch the end as the world shakes and bends. The demons prepare as you sit as plump as a pear, a delicious target, they hold malicious bargains. I speak their tongue, but impartial am I for all I have won. Let them find the wicked I bet on a whim the earth is a kitchen, can’t handle the heat? Get out, you poisoned her so it’s time to let the beast out. The angels choir guides those in noir, your shallow angles are not match for a seraphims guitar. You all will wallow as you all only know to follow, none of you can lead for most of you are in incessant need. Hear these words, cross that Ford, find that power, unleash your flower, you are the eye of the storm, Gaia in reform, I have spoken on a token of many worlds not of this for this is not woken. Prepare to dare on the whits of your hare