| Shadowed truth never tries to hide
|
| An inconvenient pride
|
| Builds abundant supplies
|
| As the Puritan dies
|
| The attrition machine
|
| Builds a new guillotine
|
| And in the place of its birth
|
| Breeds a new Nazarene
|
| Grind down the iron gears
|
| Plunge the pike, work, work
|
| With extinct human skills
|
| Nevermore can you choose
|
| Now oppressor resistor
|
| You’ve got nothing to lose
|
| With a noble existence
|
| Forged through heart and through hand
|
| This machine has burned down
|
| The ever providing man
|
| Grind down the iron gears
|
| Plunge the pike, work, work
|
| A distant wind breeds fire
|
| Burning tall
|
| Preaching to the choir
|
| The lost retain control
|
| Oh, burn 'em down
|
| Now hungry for oblivion
|
| What have the powerful become
|
| Piles of flesh, greed and sin
|
| Devoured by the teeth of angry laymen
|
| Plunging the knife
|
| In this black industry
|
| A humbled rebirth
|
| The green Earth now remains free
|
| Grind down the iron gears
|
| Plunge the pike, work, work
|
| Grind down the iron gears
|
| Plunge the pike, work, work
|
| A distant wind breeds fire
|
| Burning tall
|
| Preaching to the choir
|
| The lost retain control
|
| Collective reason by riot
|
| The oppressor cannot deny it
|
| Technology burns
|
| When the Luddite returns |