Tristan Robert Lange

The King of Intellect

All hail the King of Intellect,
So cool and suave in thought,
Who can think through the walls
Of his own bullshit piled high.

Impaled through the heart,
Your death, by reason, has begun.
You hide your own emotions
At the eternal peril of your soul.

Aiming to be killer sociopaths,
You grab yourselves by the balls.
Trying not to yelp at the pain,
You worship your deaths on a stick.

Blinded by deceitful abominations,
The truth evades you at every turn.
You are followers of a follower,
Who thinks he\'s become the leader.

Slaves! Wake up from your slumber!
You dance to the beat of damnation
And laugh at the wrath of the hell
You\'ve brought upon the children.

\"Death is conformity,\" says the muse.
You treat the truth like a whore
Who\'s wrapped himself around you.
You kiss your demise and smile.

Like the Pied Piper of Hamelin,
He leads you as rats to the sewer.
He feeds off of your conformity;
He needs your souls to survive.

Wake up from this nightmare
And see the pyre on which you lay.
It\'s not too late to live.
Die to the lies and live your life.