We: The Authors (Swine's Requim)

Imagine Existence without the persistence of an authority, world minority, with a death wish.
Death is a gun in your mouth without reflection; a still beating heart where the devil's name is etched in.

Revolution starts within. Cowering under incompetence. False obelisks powering the populace.

A lethal weapon is a legal weapon. African religion when it's held by Europeans. Rest authority in this man. Put a badge in his hand. Put a gun in your mouth. And Expand.

COUNTERFEIT
Rocks and bricks compared to this colossus. Forty-one thrown, nineteen hit. Four cops acquitted. Evidence, like I said, counterfeited. Admit it.

COWARDICE
Four-hundred years and our power is hour-less. Now it is INFINITE.

My spit. Hits the prison-industrial-complex. Plus your industry has no context. We call you pigs cause you squeal when you're hunted and writhe in the filth of your conquest.

Recreation of an ethic with the advent of pure thinking. All their power all their riches are built on false foundations.

Our enemies cannot bury the evidence
Their strengths are actually impediments

When Heaven and Hell as the Angles turn devils and logic collides.
The truth is elusive, obtuse, and confusing. The proof is inside. These pigs will die.

So we cause the conflict? The conflict's in police departments

They profit from drugs, guns, illegal black markets. Serve and protect a bull market. We're wanted. Speak truth in the face of office held up by culprits with faulty doctrines; the parchment soaked in blood in seventeen-seventy-six is offensive to the ones who died for it. Unspeakable horrors, as the plantation, nation-state, chain-gang, penetrates anomie. United States fall separately when penitentiaries feed the capital of four centuries.

These Pigs will Die
You Are the Author of Authority

Treason Belies
What's been Applied Abhorrently