๐๐ก๐ ๐๐๐ซ๐๐ก ๐จ๐ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐๐ง๐ฌ๐๐ง๐
With their hate exposed and their minds closed tight
They are marching on to that old red beat
Down the bloodied road and the blackened street.
Theyโre the nightmare spawned on the darkest night.
Theyโre the Marxistsโ dream, both the black and white.
Theyโre the proof that the Westโs decayโs complete,
With its bones now dust neath the marching feet
Of the damned divisions that smear and smite.
While they know not hunger nor great world war,
And no sacrifice has been asked of them,
Their preceptโs the product of one mad brain โ
And all but what pleases, it will ignore
And all that displeases, it will condemn,
For it is the master of crowds insane.
โ D.N. OโBrien