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Black aura, cold heart,
seething in the loudness
of silence in the dark;
solemn and solo,
hollowed, I'll follow
life's winding path
to its fiery source;
of course.

Of course.

Iron fist raised with
the force of an anvil;
we've come to a standstill
at the end of this anthill
our girth now exceeding
the dearth of our feeding:
we're too fucking greedy,
so stop fucking breeding!

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The following comments are for "Malthusian Fury"
by verve

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