A Fabricated Tale and Modern Nonsense

The "ancient glory" haunts again
The minds of slaves—depraved, insane.
It keeps the youth in restless chains,
Yet truth is Shame, Decay, and Pain.

What glory, then? The cause is dire—
A rotten loop, a doomed affair.
From shadows, ruling with its fire,
The soulless beast directs the herd.

Their fate? The slaughter, endless shearing,
As once before—no change at all.
History—venom, dark, deceiving,
A lie that pulls you down to crawl.

From Depths to Abyss—one direction,
The course of mankind through the years.
And foul deceit, in its infection,
Transforms men’s souls to beasts of fears.

Behold! The Abyss, reeking, endless,
And War—a shadow in its wake.
Think for yourself, defy the senseless,
See through the Nonsense. Hell’s at stake.

Behind the Fraud, the Devil’s grinning,
Too vast to notice, clear as day.
For sheep—new gates, yet none are winning,
Just empty space and void decay.