How bovine is all the mud I have to choke down
The wounds of these parasites
The mankind is no longer destiny's child
Pathetic orgasms of your views devour your own soul
As manic and possessed by fraud
The grotesque of paradox thinking
You feed the wold with earthlings as you are
I mourning and can barely feel me
You eat souls which also can feel
So your own
The false belief that individuality is a sign of belonging
From where my hate comes — you asking
It's because I love so many things
But they are trambled by the presence of the death
Who — when they look into my eyes
Then they know they are there
If this is our truth — then I want to be a liar
The harvest of our seed — so let me be the fire
On head you're wearing the roots
And wonder why you can't stand in your mire
Time for new mercenaries — I need your hand to hire you
The bull by the horns brings you always back to the end
The longer you're on crusade the smaller will be your land
Oh — what a wonderful meal I smell
I want to touch it
Is it what it seems to be
Oh — how I have longed for it
I have to taste it
Crawl deep into my throat
The force of the invincible was dried up
As we begun to made our clothes
From the skin of our children
We love them — abhor them — we love

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