Rage at the injustice,

Rage at the rampant abuse,

Abuse of power,

Abuse of intelligence.

Know this and hear my cry,

For all things are measured,

And in god's arms we'll fall after we die,

In his ears we will whisper,

Of our grievance and our loss,

In his ear we will whisper,

Of the joy and life that withered away.

To defile it so,

In that way and in that manner,

That innocence before it was shattered.

Maybe it was necessary,

Maybe it was part of his plan.

The journey must go forward,

We understand,

And unfortunately,

That's where you stand.

But all things are measured.

Whether you spit on my corpse,

Or mourned my passing,

Whether I was a victim of personal greed,

Or a casualty of the world state,

All things are measured.

Know this, for you seem to think it has passed,

Know this, as you enjoy perceived innocence,

All things are measured,

And judged by their worth,

Maybe not now,

Maybe not in this life,

But the spirit is immortal,

And vengeance is always satisfied.