Relation 13

Don't tell me about what the regime does

I am more than aware and uninterested

Its dangers are of little issue to me

While you should be wary, they hate you

And me, but not as much as they do you

Ropes and chains will deliver me out

You, what matters, sinking down into the hole

Unknown to history, remained a mystery

We may make something out of you, martyr

But no, let the old regime work its way

A terrible truth to accept that one cannot rule

But neither can all rule one, what a myth

My warning to you is to follow the guidelines

Stored in Georgia, built by the Rosicrucian

Yes, death is inbound, be ready to fight and die

Grab a gun, blow yourself, easier that way

Than to fight a great patriotic war of nonsense

To fight a survival war when nothing will be left

For freedom, democracy and whatnot, all useless

When everything begins to crumble

Brother killing brother, tremulous sights

Red over green, black over blue

Whatever did we do to end up in this hue?