The seeds of evil
we're sown long ago,
and ever are nurtured,
to sprout unbeknownst;
behind great twisters,
that endlessly blow,
countless illusions
past numbers souls.

Perversion of power
with horrible arms,
that spread out like cancer,
under soft-honey charm,
ever probing, and mixing,
and biding it's time,
'til the power it sought,
grows ripe in the mind,
of the hungary and desperate,
with nothing to lose,
when reality looks hopeless,
and evil seems good!