Land of Treason - Germs

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 face show-

We’ve grown cold-but

Have not conspired

Old hearts gone-

The future’s on-mother nations mired

I like a recepticle 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 our blurred-overturn your own

Walk like dogs and watch the doors-

Have your other stone

Stop the toys that match 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 ever seen

The time is now-the vicious here-

A stolen dinner code

The license 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

You wash your hands and start to climb

The ladder that you stole

Slip the hatch-and spin the sword-

The money lords are poor

Push the tan-that rolls downhill-

Their sense of dream absorbed

Still the cat that breaks the night-

Tie him to the core

Chase the viruses that believe-

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