Atrash
I see faces that look nice, believing that they’re are angelic
Could be cold as ice, but surely, each other, they mimic
Always looking for a chance to slice, just another way to spread the epidemic
One day they’ll pay the price, when there’s no one left to critique
They stand in fierce and vice, without being sympathetic
Fiery are the eyes, smoky and magnetic
If one can see the lies, will choose to be schizophrenic
