Alien Utopia - Hannes Grossmann

Old sweet years of old

Nature, seek perfection

Inhale dread and fear

To protect this false perception

Camouflaged in faith

— mindless, soulless, impertinent —

The scorn of truth lies

At his hand

Culture Cleansing Machine

Points at me with rogue daggers

Wretched means of sheer accuracy

Umber harvest of hate

Ideas to be

And ideals of moral

Undermine idiocy

Like marbles clog a rifle barrel

For the rule of one

Squalling into mass deception

Where blind leads blind

One-eyed kings demand control

Culture Cleansing Machine

Points at me with rogue daggers

Wretched means of sheer accuracy

Umber harvest of hate

Beyond the portal you’ll reach

The endless, bodiless imperfection

Write your own decree

And you’ll be able to measure all you wish to believe

By abandoning this self-deceit