Beaver Ruin -

It must be some kind of art to do anything for ten straight years

And not become a master

Ten straight years, and not get any better

This war I rage is perfect and right

Blitzkrieg through the night

This darkness will devour your light

I move with the power and strength of a thousand

My path of destruction, a natural reduction of filth

A man is only worth his word

So any value you once had had now expired

Now it’s war

You’ve crossed the line that you have drawn

Now it’s war

My sword will hold you to your word

And release you from this world with honor

I’ll turn your thumbscrews down

For the sins from your guts

And give you the means to an end

Which you truly deserve

It’s much too late

You are the target in my sight

I must admit it feels so right

My will and vision, beautiful and bright

Own, reap what you have sown