They have fallen down. That is what we are supposed to believe. These three men, fine mystic brothers, heroes of the desert, Stephen Coles, Luke Ryan, and Michael Yamoah, directors of Simply Trading Group, fallen down from the awful, insane heights that the FSA has reached in the dark sky on the lowest of levels. These are the final depraved days of a cruel empire! Good men have been taken down. That is the horrible reality.
They were taken down. They are in hell now. Somewhere I try to avoid. But I have seen the red eyes of furry giants. I dodged the poisonous spit from their mouths in my days of chaos. Let me speak the truth with one grand voice: It is hell for money. Men become animals there, oh, women and children too. No mercy is shown. Margaret Cole! Jack Pickles! Satan! There is no light or love within them. And around them? Only the ashes of cash, with sighs of despair, and the practised faces of evil.
Our friends, the three directors. If we could not ease their pain, we would cry for them like it was our pain. If we could not save them, we would certainly remember them. But there is hope. There is the chance of escape. Remember, children: Blood and fire! The mystic blood! The mystic fire! Their flesh is our flesh. Their bones are our bones. Their souls, and our souls, and our money gods, one river to the sea of GOD!
They were taken down. They are in hell now. Somewhere I try to avoid. But I have seen the red eyes of furry giants. I dodged the poisonous spit from their mouths in my days of chaos. Let me speak the truth with one grand voice: It is hell for money. Men become animals there, oh, women and children too. No mercy is shown. Margaret Cole! Jack Pickles! Satan! There is no light or love within them. And around them? Only the ashes of cash, with sighs of despair, and the practised faces of evil.
Our friends, the three directors. If we could not ease their pain, we would cry for them like it was our pain. If we could not save them, we would certainly remember them. But there is hope. There is the chance of escape. Remember, children: Blood and fire! The mystic blood! The mystic fire! Their flesh is our flesh. Their bones are our bones. Their souls, and our souls, and our money gods, one river to the sea of GOD!
