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Whistle While You Work
Fierce is the feast of the bottom feeding
Consensus of the many to decist their further breeding
Upon broken promises their faith is kept
Shadows move about, prowling while they slept
From the soured breast the leaches suckle
They will work until they bodies tire, and their legs buckle
Atop their lifeless bodies a new crop will emerge
Their knowledge known from the surrounding scourge
Again they will strive for the dream
Falsley promised from their queen
The sick die off and the bodies mound
Enough for some to escape the chains from wich their bound
One by one they'll climb out of the hole.
Bringing death, increasing the toll
Fill it back in with those slain
Once it's full, we'll start again.
