Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
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 faces show- we've grown cold- but have not conspired Old hearts gone- the suture's on- mother nations mired I like a receptacle 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 are blurred- overturn your own Walk the dogs and watch the doors- have your other stone Stop the toys that march 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 even seen The time is now- the vicious here- a stolen dinner code The licence 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 latch- and spin the sword- the money lords are poor Push the tank- that rolls downhill- their sense of doom absorbed Still the cat that breaks the night- tie him to the core Chase the virtue that believes- 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 bastion for the fools golden dawn |