2:09)

Land of treason-waste no reason-

we are breathing fire

We're packs of dogs-

we're enemies of men-we are not desired

Our face show-

we've grown cold-but

have not conspired

Old hearts gone-

the future's on-mother nations mired

I like a recepticle for the chosen dead,

we find our bodies clawed

And with the scent of death,

we find that we are not so very awed



Loyalties burned-

the words our blurred-overturn your own

Walk like dogs and watch the doors-

have your other stone

Stop the toys that match disordered-

calculate the thrones

Feel the pulse descending-

decaying hallowed tomes

In the starving sense you worship-

the nations of debris

You wear a cost of sewage-

that you've never ever seen



The time is now-the vicious here-

a stolen dinner code

The license of the savage land-

that you've always sold

So bite the hand that needs you

and bless another coal

The virus never issues-

from a cotton 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 hatch-and spin the sword-

the money lords are poor

Push the tan-that rolls downhill-

their sense of dream absorbed

Still the cat that breaks the night-

tie him to the core

Chase the viruses that believe-

that what's right is scored

It's a senseless cash in of right for right-

what's wrong is never gone

And left is just a bassion for the fools

golden dawn