Vārdi: Hour Glass. Vermin World Diet. Oil Capillaries.

Through the gutters of few streets, lies an empty stomach breed. Weak occasions of mysticism try to mutate the sum by filling bellies. Though it could be me or you, the secret selected few. Realize economical functions at stake, realize the fall of our fate. Millions consume essentials, bare the dream of the only elemental ones. Were amidst endless wait for the solar-countdown of power to vanquish the consumption.
But would you go? Overseas generates flavors of riches. Constructed wrecking-illusions made by the tyrant illustrators: An everlasting oil lust. Every street rids offerings, too great of lives to feed. Every sea is lost for free, too late, between oil capillaries. Preach it all, teach them all the word, real lies can't save this earth. Release this suffered sanction, breathe fear before it stops. We'll reach the sword that reads levity. And strike down across the human "Dis-Race", cause their the ones who wont feel inside. And youre the one who won't believe your eyes. All that I know, and all that I say are two steps ahead