As one of the last remaining
That knows how it feels to stare at the ceiling
We only know humiliation by bad TV shows
I share a tear for boredom, an extincting feeling
Here is something special for you son, a closet full of bones
You ask yourself why we refuse?
Why we are dressed as the apocalypse?
Be callouse with the weak
But even more rigorous with your own creed
You stay half moon
As we watch their skinless scheme
Playing the drums of Untergang
Untill they bite their golden spoon
We stay monks and nouns
You ask yourself why we refuse?
Why we are dressed as the apocalypse?
Isn’t it obvious?
You made freedom and prosperity a fucking promise!
Those who build fences
Are the same that think humans are too expensive
They say history is written by the winners
I say trading salvation into blood makes them sinners
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