Bitter Harvest

A moment of clarity
 It spoke to me in tongues
 It spoke to me of ruin
 Of destitution, and of pain
 Where night, it never ever
 Seems to come
 To ease the misery of the day 

Degenerate whores
 Expose their stinking wares
 to a foul race of man...
 whores for all..., in time
 Death soon shall bind
 These soul less froms of men
 To the dead of their kind 

To live all their lives again
 They would die in the very
 Same way...
 Clinging to a profane hope that
 A place beyond the grave
 May repay their suffering
 And their pain
 In a way that no whore could ever ease
 The misery of the day...