align your devotionndecide on your weapon of choicenwhether it be earth, water, wind or firenbleed true nature forever, however you desirenthe filters are clogged, nails all rusted overnmiles upon miles of deliverance scenariosnwith everything taken for firewood enemiesnluck starved and shootingnagree on distinctionnwith dissention amongst the ranks of commanding sugar coated generals who crumble and melt awaynalways infinitelynwho will battle the beast?nlay waste to the clear cutters?ncrush youndestroy youndeface youndebase younyour weapons willnbut, your weapons won't answer the smell of the frail