Poverty’s chosen have no place
They hide their own faces beneath the waste and leave no trace.
Friends of the flies
Trembling pariahs and husks sentenced to be forever scorned and chastised

Madness…or so they say
No asylum can be found in this place.
The vows of the Crown can only betray;
Delirium and disgrace.

Beggars they fear, and beggars they breed
Through the misled years and forgotten tears they all will bleed
Such is the doctrine
Through the mad eyes of beggars, see abyssal serpents slithering within.

Oh, see them turn their heads
Couldn’t spare two coins for eyes of the dead
No stones to be thrown from a sack of gems
Lest they succumb to the madness and become like them.

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