

Pierce yourself with grief, your hope in worthless things. Your falsehoods and your blood money cry out against you even now. Wealth of men means nothing after death. Wealth of money-hungry hypocrites sealed in mansions in the deepest depths of fiery hell. Weep and wail. Fatten yourself for the day of slaughter. Woe to you. Condemn yourself, you rich oppressor. Children of misfortune littering the streets, passing by your mansions, laying broken dreams at your feet. Looking from your high-rise, the poor seem so small. Crush them under the weight of your corporate monster, slaving away kills them all.
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