Tekster: Otep. Atavist. Skin Of The Master.

:
A soft procession of endless hymns
swallowing bullets like sleeping pills

Across the floor of an ancient room
it was not God, it was not the moon
the knives come out to protect the nest
crying out in the wilderness

THEY ARE NOT MEN.
THEY ARE A FLOCK.
MINDLESS QUARRY.
LESS THAN LIVESTOCK.

THEY ARE NOT MEN.
THEY ARE A FLOCK.
THEY'RE HERE TO
CUT THEM UP

INSIDE LIKE SINE BROKEN
BLOATED HIVE MIND WET WORMS
OF HATE DEVOTED TO DECAY
INSIDE MY MIND HIDDEN BEASTS
RUN WILD UNTIL THE PREY SUBSIDES
THE HUNGER WILL REMAIN

a soft procession of endless hymns
swallowing bullets like sleeping pills

the sound of the axe in the chipping block
The smell of the skin from afar
The night coils on to its cruel end
Crying out in the wilderness

THEY ARE NOT MEN.
THEY ARE A FLOCK.
MINDLESS QUARRY.
LESS THAN LIVESTOCK.

THEY ARE NOT MEN.
THEY ARE A FLOCK.
THEY'RE HERE TO
CUT THEM UP

INSIDE LIKE SINE BROKEN
BLOATED HIVE MIND WET WORMS
OF HATE DEVOTED TO DECAY
INSIDE MY MIND HIDDEN BEASTS
RUN WILD UNTIL THE PREY SUBSIDES
THE HUNGER WILL REMAIN

my worst fear is coming true I think
I am becoming you
my worst fear is coming true I think
I am becoming you
skin of the master; mouth of the slave

my worst fear is coming true I think
I am becoming you
my worst fear is coming true I think
I am becoming you
skin of the master; mouth of the slave

the sound of the axe
the smell of the skin
the night boils on

THEY ARE NOT MEN.
THEY ARE A FLOCK.
MINDLESS QUARRY.
LESS THAN LIVESTOCK.

THEY ARE NOT MEN.
THEY ARE A FLOCK.
THEY'RE HERE TO
CUT THEM UP

INSIDE LIKE SINE BROKEN
BLOATED HIVE MIND WET WORMS
OF HATE DEVOTED TO DECAY
INSIDE MY MIND HIDDEN BEASTS
RUN WILD UNTIL THE PREY SUBSIDES
THE HUNGER WILL REMAIN

INSIDE MY MIND, WET WORMS
OF HATE DEVOTED TO DECAY
DEVOTED TO BETRAY
THE HUNGER WILL REMAIN

THEY ARE NOT MEN.
THEY ARE NOT MEN.
THEY ARE NOT MEN.