Choatic mess to represent what is in the poem. Oh made from scratch. Utopia, it is what they wanted Now as they look upon their spawn They are pleased Looking at the sin soaked lives they live They bask in the rays of selfish delight The same evil of monstrosity The truth hurts them far too much So they fill themselves with drugs Creating their own 'feelings' They thought they could change everything they knew Now they sit and self-destruct. Evil Paradise - Trent