for the resigned
out yourselves now you spinless cretins, so we may see the faces of the ghosts that haunt the corridors of shame.
the day of reckoning shall pass down on you, and once fallen from grace, for as your wings were made of wax,may you be hung drawn and quarted and dispatched to the four pillars .
let your ashes fill the pity city fire and be spoken of only, in dolcent undertones of the word scab.