Fleurs de Mal

The demonic seed of European imperialists has swollen with ripeness
Its blossoms signal moral decay, salivating to conquer
A diseased concept of unalienable rights, a distorted view of sexuality
A plague upon evolution
Industrialists and aristocrats, rotting in your fancy suits
Burning like cigars hung between weak lips choking beneath the smokestacks of progress
Protectors and providers, teachers of self loathing, sentinels of the abattoirs, guardians of status quo
May you choke on your own masochistic sermons and be ground beneath the heels of conformity

My dearest comrades and young rebels, we're just more of the same
Bourgeois shackles of pacifism and inaction enabling oppression
We are accessories to slavery, bound together by invisible reins, pulsing through the veins
The same tumultuous, glorious blood