Maybe it's hatred I spew, maybe it's food for the spirit

Men would rather use their broken weapons than their bare hands

Rise! Like the sun up at the crack of the dawn.

I was not born under a rhyming planet

Broken dreams flying away on the wings of the obscene.

Hell is empty and all the devils are here.

The most benevolent king communicating through your dreams

Through every dark night, there's a bright day after that

Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them.

Socrates' philosophies and hypotheses can't define.

For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come.

Beyond the walls of intelligence, life is defined

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind

Inhale deep like the words of my breath. I never sleep, because sleep is the cousin of death