Animus of Hope (Song, mostly unwritten yet)

we are the children of the anarchy

we are not purchased by the dirty lie

so unafflicted by serenity

you sing to puppets like a lullaby

we're not undone by your iniquity

it's not our job to see you gratified

you are undone by our ability

to wave our hands and leave you mystified

we are the animus of hope

we are the tempered steel

we genuflect to neither king nor pope

we are the grease that turns the wheel

you were the chains around our very necks

to keep us down and so you prayed

your gods would keep us your subjects

but we're the exsanguinating blade

you made us into your inhuman objects

at least, you thought, that we'd be swayed

and ran to cash your bloody cheques

for debts you hoped would never be paid

we are the animus of hope

we are the tempered steel

we genuflect to neither king nor pope

we are the grease that turns the wheel

we are the macroscope

our anger is the only thing you feel

you're a forgotten trope

we'll be all that's left that's real

we are the animus of hope

we are the tempered steel

we genuflect to neither king nor pope

we are the grease that turns the wheel

-o0o-