“Pangea split so now we're filled in a fit of pique.
We brim with lust, spirit willing, but the flesh is weak.
Consumed by greed, shoving everything down our throat.
Sloth a cottonseed, weaving us, we are a coat.
Zeal reveals our hearts conceal a deep and endless pit.
Grudge we hold against the world, she owes us every bit.
Iblis sees humanity's impending aftermath.
So now my friend, a gift he gives, its ink is wrath.”