They hate us, more than we know.
We have decided.
We have agreed.
That you are a perversion,
a disease.
And you must burn.
We cannot rest.
Keeping this place clean,
it’s what we do best.
But do not fret.
Have no concern.
For we will not feel it,
when you burn
And when you’re gone.
And we are free.
It is not you that
we shall remember.
But the brave, strong men,
who lit the match, stoked the embers.
Those noble men,
who sentence me to die.
Those cowards,
they could never look me in the eye.