Change must be inflicted.
The obdurate dirt, and filthy
clay must be subverted.
We MUST inflict Change
change must be inflicted.
If we are too many
we must become few.
If we are too few,
we must become many.
Change must be inflicted.
There is no other way.
The fish who swim in the sea,
and lakes and streams:
we must command them.
The sky: we must reach the sky we must conquer the sky
Earth cannot be enough, until it is,
and then it will be all,
After we inflict our change.
Beetles march in imperfect rows and must
be corrected, and birds sing at the wrong times.
Something is wrong, something is
very wrong.
We must change it
Change must be inflicted.
We grow through strength:
this will never do.
We wane in weakness:
this, too, will never do.
Because we must inflict change.
Change must be inflicted.
Lovers meet, wrestle and part,
or perhaps they stay. This is the
eternal way, but we do not want the eternal way:
we want change. We want change.
We are the inflictors of change, the enforcers
of change, the angels of change and the demons of change.
All that was, must be no more, no more.
All that will be we have already conquered.
We live forever in shadows, forever in the transition,
forever in what could be, but will never be
as long as we inflict change.
We are the guardians of change, of all
that almost was.
We are the guarantors of strife and evil, because
we never rest.
We inflict change and call it good, and tiring of
good call it evil. And we call evil good, and then
inflict more change.
Nothing is left in the end. We have interrupted it all.
There is to be no party at the end of time, merely a
quiet fart and then silence.
Such is our will.