Do You Feel Alive Now That You Own The Dead

Praying On Their Corpses, Their Hearts No Longer Feel

Your Sainthood Is Obvious On Every Starving Face

Your Deception's Given Us A Way To Separate

The Poor From Their Hate, The Rich From The Stone

Genuflect Away The Sins That We've Known

Sure One Percent Rules, But Heaven's Made Of Gold

So Chalk It Up To Folly And Consequence Alone

Do We Really Want What We Really Need A Bastard Messiah

Wrapped Up In The Dream Of Patriotic Clean White Washed Desire

And Every Time The Real War's Defined, The Trenches Are Filled To Hide Battle Lines

Torches To Bridges And Bridges To Torture

Headlines Distort What We See As Our Borders

And What Gives Us The Right To Feed With Remorse For A God They Created

A God For The Poor, For Bathory We're Bleeding Out The Devil Hicks In Angelic Shrouds

Blasphemy As Speaking Out We've Asked For It For More Of The Same

Sad Scheme Of Ghettos Created By The Power Elite, For Our Minds And Souls Burning

No Longer For Freedom Invoked Just More Of The Same