Tekster:
Severed Head Of State

History counts its dead in round numbers, euphemisms and statistics? one thousand and one remains one thousand as though the one never existed. Faith

Into a world of deadness, the dead march on Into a world of slumber, the dull march on Into a world of hunger, the full march on Into a world of slavery

In spite of the forces stacked against us, to spite the master plan Despite a sick and sinking feeling in the heart of every man Never lose your fucking

They have already written my eulogy though I am still standing and I still breathe. No fear inside? no end in sight? I am not close to that endless night

Sacrifice your newborns to the vehemence of the machine Sacrifice your hours to the tick of the clock in the factory We, the bartered, the offering

There is a war after war and rumors of war exploding from the east. There is a rumbling in the desert and there is talk about the beast. Mothers cry

All of my years have been a sick charade, trying to stop the clock and trying to end this parade. I got my funeral started a long time ago... Embalmed

Life should not be measured in Increments of pain, increments of pain Suffered in that way of life That we choose to live, that we choose to live Stick

You cannot live without the shadow of death You beg and scream for someone else's help You cannot lengthen your life, you know that this is true If something