Brute Chant

Mortal and actual
Human handwork
Urban landscape
Sphere of killing
Already buried man
Yet preaching dogmas
Loving raping
On hunt for taste pleasure
Like pain that never ends
Sick fighting to defeat
Tomorrow worthless to recall
Set a dream to life
Sick enough to blame some lives
Not knowing a smile
Shame cry undone
Lover, bower
No face to lose
No eyes to close
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