Look at them
Fools, pure fools
Nothing but fools
They listen without logic
They believe without reason
They follow without thought
They are sheep
And the reaper knows this
They are perfect flock

Look at them
Thieves, rotten thieves
Nothing but thieves
Their deceit is without conscience
Their lies, without flaw
They know no mercy
They are reapers
Taking that which they have not given
They are perfect tools

Look at us
Critics, vile creatures
Nothing but critics
Seeing without sight
Standing without base
Walking without light
Doubters are we
Accepting nothing they feed us
We are the perfect dead!

A JACKSONIAN reveal.