Born into a world of chaos
No hope for those who cannot protect themselves
Ravaged by disease
Blood tainted by a virus that creates so much profit
Why find a cure?
Why find a solution to end their suffering?
Millions die every year
Those who can pay will live that bit longer
Weakness is profit
Disease is profit
Pain is profit

Nations held to ransom as Babylon feeds them her scraps, and they stand with their hands held up waiting to be fed
Only to be bled dry by these unrelenting nations
And their lust for domination and greed

With their suffering we prosper
With their pain we shall live a life of riches
As they die an untimely death