The List

From nothing, it could not rise

After all, somewhere

Preying on rumour, feed it proud

Fear is born, the list

Growing fear, the tanks

One hundred and fourty four strong

Have been equipped with horns

The Mozart's requiem, will be performed

What are you waiting for?

Copulate, procreate the herds

Of half-hump-backed idiots

Statistically, someone may survive

What is the owner of the list?

Am I registered to?

No talks, up and down the streets

No table-talks indoor

The list of enemies

Nothing to feed

The conversation with

But fear still feeds the hate

All rivers flowing red

Unleashed hell

After all the rain will remain