Tü ake tü tonu You talk of me with a stench I know too well It comes from you he of ugly intent Your ways not yet banished Shall be discarded Even by those to be born by you Of your tortured suffering all shall be free It is not your place to desire of me complacency When it is party to your own downfall Oh weep you shall as you smile Smug in your assumptions You refuse to be corrected A breed perversed in institutions Well versed in denial and the tact of avoidance It is I who champions your destruction It is I The compulsion