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Ghostlimb
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Conquerors of the Useless
I thought that disgust running through my veins
Would subside all that rancor piss and vinegar
Through the unqualified litmus test of time
But every man standing next to me
I see only fraud and impunity
Sated and blessed with a fire quenched before it was set
The swollen misfortune and infamed
Breathing heavily with regret and shame
So would I as a thousand-fold Parmenion
Looking for a means to cope
In this culpable malaise
We should have cast that Grecian thing into the sea
While we had a chance
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