If the stock had not been old and overcrowded
The wax moth would never have entered
But where bees are too thick on the comb
There must be sickness or parasites
The little grey wax moth pressed close in a crack
Had patiently awaited this chance all day
She scuttled in like a ghost and headed for the young
For she knew the senior bees would turn her away

Whilst caressing the young with her soft feelers
She laid her eggs, disguised as her principles
“You mustn’t lay here you are not our queen!”
She used her silver tongue to further trick the young
“I am ready to die for this, if you’d like to kill me pray do!”
Only the strong survive
Until the voice behind the veil comes
The mother of the hive

With a rumour of death’s head moths about
A young army was sent to prevent the infiltration
For the fear of the feathery thieves of the hive
Unheeded went the warnings of their current infestation
Continuing deception unnoticed as a mole
Was the weasly uneducated sister in grey
Empathizing with the workers as they wore out their only wings
Her infection was beginning to take

Infecting the comb
Stench in the air
Infecting the comb
A rotten reek

(Mutated)
Pulsating worker cells
(Maternity)
Began to give birth to oddities
(Ward)
Hatching dwarves and cripples
A nurses nightmare was the horror of the hive

They continue to be born one by one, runt by runt
The pathetic frail souls missing limbs attempt to fly
Pale and poisoned one by one, runt by runt
All the tortured infant workers with mutations start to die
Word spreads fast of the disruption in the hive
And as the panic sets in the moth perches by the sway
Worker bees can leave even drones can fly away
The ironic situation is the queen is their slave

"Wait till my principles develop, and you'll see the light from a new quarter."
"You speak truth for once. Light will break into the top of the Hive. A Hot Smoke will follow it, and your children will not be able to hide in any crevice."
"Is it possible? I have heard a legend like it...."
(We must disinfect)
"It is no legend, I had it from my mother, and she had it from hers.
After the Wax-moth has grown strong, a Shadow will fall across the gate; a Voice will speak from behind a Veil; there will be Light, and Hot Smoke, and earthquakes, and those who live will see everything that they have done, all together in one place, burned up in one great fire. the Day of Judgment.”
"Then, I have heard that a little light will burn in a great darkness, and perhaps the world will begin again. Myself, I think not."

This rotten hive is a museum of curiosities
The voice behind the veil comes to bring the end

(Miserable)
Drone grubs squirm feebly
(Wretched)
A life time of work overturned
(Reality)
Corrupted comb broke in clouds of dust
The almighty keeper becomes the destroyer of the hive

We must disinfect
Incinerate the oddities
We must disinfect
The shell is hung back in place to rebuild

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