Stink of Existence

The man opens his filthy mouth, Only to deceive and take away Its value is to become like a grave, For worms and larvae of lies. The smell of truth is just the stink of existence Hundreds of corpses that united in a fit of hatred. The idea of genocide no longer seems terrible, When crowds of worms are ready to eat each other. What difference does it make to live or die If the goal is to rob, kill and take away? The smell of truth is just the stink of existence Hundreds of corpses that united in a fit of hatred. Every action is filled with desperation, Blind desire to continue exist. Apocalypse is inevitable and yet, The blindmans hoped that it would end a little better.