| We fell asleep in arms that fondled our teeth
|
| And sold them off to thieves
|
| Now we sell ourselves around.
|
| Only time will tell if stories like these will share the same fate.
|
| Regiments of disconnects emerge in a moronic gentleman’s war
|
| With their eyes, their eyes blindfolded they rise
|
| The battlefields are colored with the ignominy stained creed
|
| With their eyes, their eyes blindfolded
|
| They rise into this world.
|
| Kneeling and trembling before him.
|
| We fell asleep in arms that fondled our teeth
|
| And sold them off to thieves
|
| Now we sell ourselves around.
|
| Waiting on knowledge
|
| Fed to us with a plastic spoon.
|
| Consuming the scraps, of the mis"ed and deceased
|
| With every word spoken today
|
| Make what you will and understand
|
| A typical feud nurtured, over many moons passed.
|
| Regiments of disconnects emerge in a moronic gentleman’s war
|
| With their eyes, their eyes blindfolded they rise
|
| The battlefields are colored with the ignominy stained creed
|
| With their eyes, their eyes blindfolded
|
| They rise into this world.
|
| Beyond the drought-worn hillside
|
| A figure appears as the cumulus over us darkens
|
| We look up to face our fears
|
| And by the rise of his all powerful hand, he sets vengeance and proclaims:
|
| «Follow me or be crushed to the depths of weak mannered simpletons.
|
| You have nowhere to hide, bow before me.»
|
| The regiment’s morale dwindles
|
| As they stare at me I yell:
|
| «As we perish may our blood that spills
|
| Be not taken in vain, giving us eternal continuance.»
|
| And as he slaughtered them all one by one
|
| I watched from a distance
|
| Waiting for the chance to raise my hand
|
| «No more, will I be under your manipulation.»
|
| I thrust forward
|
| With my perceptive glaive
|
| Gathering all my strength
|
| Thou shalt now disappear
|
| Bruised and beaten
|
| Severed head in hand
|
| The archetype has failed
|
| We’ll never forget.
|
| We fell asleep in arms that fondled our teeth
|
| And sold them off to thieves
|
| Now we sell ourselves around.
|
| Waiting on knowledge
|
| Fed to us with a plastic spoon; |
| with a plastic spoon.
|
| Regiments of disconnects
|
| With their eyes, their eyes blindfolded they rise
|
| Battlefields colored with creeds
|
| Their eyes, their eyes blindfolded
|
| They rise into this world. |