When a tyrant falls his vitriol redoubles,
Instilling fear and rage into those who follow him.
Blindly he leads them all to their destruction
In the name of “victory” and “victory” alone.
Hatred is the fuel that drives them,
And hatred the poison that blinds them
To any possibility for peace.
Because they worship nothing but death,
Death follows them wherever they go.
But listen closely and you will hear
Their cries are growing fainter all the time.
A tyrant’s end is slow but certain—
Certain as the death they worship.
Certain as the death they fear.
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