AeoN-NovA

Marching in the land of sheep, So weak, with neither intellect nor pride I am the lonely wolf, I am their righteous predator Look at them while they feed On hypocritical diamonds, Which shine so empty But blinds them with its glow They feed on delusional hope Which they might sense But they are too obtuse to detect the lie Enchanted, they follow and bleat And I am the righteous marauder The one that could feed on them But their smell makes me shiver And keeps me far away I am the one that sees it all, That smells their invisible chains, - They chose to wear - And that senses their aura of filth I will observe them as I roa