Whatsoever I feel is not in concern You care little of the outside Your soul prepared to burn Your flaw is seen one of pride And yet you stand fast Believing in your cause Thinking of mistakes past You fall to fates cruel claws Pushed to limites from the brim You stand your post of life Your face neither drawn nor grim You are blind to their strife Above the rest so you believe Not another thought to it Their pain is not alleaved Yet you turn them on the spit Agony is their only weapon Turned to hatred on your thought Your ignorance is the felon And the destruction it brought Another victem of heart to small Feeling he is not deserving the other fate Soon your pride will fall And you will pass back to the gate (c) 1994 Crisis Of Eden Enterprises Ok I was tired Rights Reserved