|
Parched with thirst our cup over floweth |
|
With the crimson milk of human blindness |
|
In channel towers of ivory besieged |
|
The bones of subjugation are picked clean |
|
In barren decadence, tears are the only affluence |
|
Welling eyes are indifferent, as the blind bleed |
|
Blood and tear out damn spot out |
|
The fruits of perpetual decay |
|
Pouring the salts in open wounds out damn spot out |
|
The scars remain, will stay perpetual decay |
|
Bloody hands never wash clean |
|
Abject misery to bleed |
|
Decadence to feed |
|
Out damn spot out |
|
Parched with thirst how the other half die |
|
Void of compassion our cup runs dry |
|
With a silver spoon born to dig communal graves |
|
The only consecration, the economics of pain |
|
In barren decadence, tears are the fuel of affluence |
|
Wells of blood run diffluent, a bitter harvest to reap |
|
Blood and tear out damn spot out |
|
The fruits of perpetual decay |
|
Pouring the salts in open wounds out damn spot out |
|
The scars remain, will stay perpetual decay |
|
Bloody hands never wash clean |
|
Abject misery to bleed |
|
Decadence to feed |
|
Out damn spot out |
|
Bloody hands never wash clean |
|
Abject misery to bleed |
|
Decadence to feed |
|
Out damn spot out |
|
Yes, damn spot out |
