| The hearts of men have grown tired and weak
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| Welcome to all forms of corruption
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| Blind to all, but power, profit and gain
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| And all of our earthly possessions
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| We decorate, happily our tombs to be
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| With the brilliant art of illusion
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| Perpetuating the cycle
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| All surface, no depth
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| Without destitution there would be no sickening wealth
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| The medication, the guilt
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| The low self-esteem and the nervous sweat
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| The sleeping troubles, the cancers
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| The heart attacks, the early deaths
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| The end of justice, the radiant fires
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| The waste left behind in the all-cleansing flames
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| The poisonous fumes from our own funeral pyre
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| The pesticide that we inhale
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| We feed the machines with our blood, our sweat
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| The phantoms are here, I can hear them
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| Gathered in flocks they watch over our steps
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| Our intellect, it must not be awakened
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| With their broken promises, your broken backs
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| By the new world order oppressed
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| All who question their methods
|
| All who question their reasons
|
| All who question their ethics
|
| Silenced by the crack of the whip of progress
|
| The medication, the guilt
|
| The low self-esteem and the nervous sweat
|
| The sleeping troubles, the cancers
|
| The heart attacks, the early deaths
|
| The end of justice, the radiant fires
|
| The waste left behind in the all-cleansing flames
|
| The poisonous fumes from our own funeral pyre
|
| The pesticide that we inhale
|
| All who question their methods
|
| All who question their reasons
|
| All who question their ethics
|
| Silenced by the crack of the whip of progress
|
| The medication, the guilt
|
| The low self-esteem and the nervous sweat
|
| The sleeping troubles, the cancers
|
| The heart attacks, the early deaths
|
| The end of justice, the radiant fires
|
| The waste left behind in the all-cleansing flames
|
| The poisonous fumes from our own funeral pyre
|
| The pesticide that we inhale x5
|
| The pesticide that we inhale x5 |