You revel in inequity, inequity is your womb!
How dare you even speak?
Your hand has been too busy casting stones
When all the while, it should have covered your shameful face.
Oh yes, we saw you. Yes! We saw you...

You bless with wounds that never heal
You heal through wounds beyond any blessing.
Crime-turned ambrosia oozes
Through all the pores of your skin.

The paths you tread are the sons and daughters
Of the wound that festers forever:
The wound whose pus nurtures everything
The wound whose pus nourishes all

Your civilisation is merely a fleeting attempt
At taming the beast.
As you cannot fend off that ageless urge,
How sly you are to channel it instead!

Your civilisations stand as monuments to perpetual discord:
A boundless will to power over the infinite...
Culture, civilisation, culture...
The forever-festering wound
Would have it no other way