The voices clash and debatenSo many wrongs to rightnTheir bleeding hearts flow never-endingn(Like their appetites)nnLeft on a front line they can't defendn(Why try to pretend?)nnSpouting, invectivesnOne way, directivesnSleep well, night-watchmann(Privilege has its own objectives)nnBlind ambitionsnDeath processionsnSelling our tragediesn(Emotional pornography redeemed)nnPartisans, wake the world to sorrownPantagruels, rouse your buried woenPartisans, face your black tomorrownSwan songs, from death's throatnBoiling in, a plight of circumstance, dismayednRunning off, when raging seas get roughnto save themselvesnWe all know this ship is sinking fastnThe Captain's on his ownnthe devil's die is cast, for EschatonnnYou fuel the problems you profess to solve...nnOur weary world embeddednwith avarice and vicenlike insects locked amber,nthey're corpses locked in icenWith silence their companionnand death their destinationnThey tread, slogging onward,ncallously unchanged