Land of treason - waste no reason - we are breathing fire

Were packs of dogs - were enimes of men - we are not desired

Our faces show - we've grown cold - but have not conspired

Old hearts gone - the suture's on - mother nation's mired

I like a receptical for the chosen dead ,

we find our bodys clawed And with the cent of death ,

we find that we are not so very awed

.

Loyalities burned - the words are blured - overturn your own

Walk the dogs and watch the doors - have your other stone

Stop the toys that march disorderd - calculate the thrones

Feel the pulse desending - decaying hallowed tomes

In the starving sence you worship - the nations of debris

You wear the cost of sewage - that you've never even seen

.

The time is now - the vicious here - a stolen dinner code

The license of the savage land - that you've allways sold

So bite the hand that needs you - and bless another coal

The virus never issues - from a cotten so very old

As the lights come down and the guilty blaze; another sort of road

You wash your hands and start to climb the ladder that you stole

.

Slip the latch - and spin the sword - the money lords are poor

Push the tank - that rools down hill - their sence of dream obsorbed

Still the cat that breaks the night - tie him to the core

Chase the virtues that beleave - that whats right is scored

It's a senseless cash in of right for right - for right whats wrong is never gone

And left is just a bastion for the fools golden dawn

.

Auther: the Germs

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