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The old lady with a scythe

Takes her share of mortal lives

Forgotten are the names

Minds are eroded

A thin red line separates

And dim is the light and acts are insane

It’s always the same

Heartless acts of violence

Are a trigger for pitiless inhumane lust

Life reaches grotesque disgust

Hunger is what she hates

Sanity is considered lame

Show me your face

Of unbelievable ugliness

Your hands

I know their ominous deeds

Your mouth stuffed with rot

Is full of lies

And vile propaganda

Rivers turn red with blood

Silence is broken by thousands of mourning mothers

Someone is staring at the face of the dead

Trying to recognize his own son