The world is a hectic house;

Too many places to be, and people to see.

Its family gasps for air,          

And dream of precious sleep.

My world is a hectic house.

The world is a den of thieves;

Fake brothers and sisters, all enslaved to greed.

Ignore the cries of the children who die,

Feed the bellies of those already full.

My world is a den of thieves.

The world is a vicious storm;

We all must fight against the wind.

Floods drown the ambassadors of peace,

Thunder deafens and lightning blinds.

My world is a vicious storm.

The world is terminal;

People are its cancer.

We worship destruction and decay,

Bask in everything we waste.

My world is terminal.