On the count of three everybody over dose
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They're coming with forks and knives to eat us alive
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Victims in this cannibalistic human race or proprietors in this dog eat dog colonization?
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We sluts have fattened and ripened in these la castles
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We rust in the milk we've been fed. With moments left
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If we stick ourselves with syringes and scrape our lungs with dollar bills
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We can forge a roof that will hold us in and keep them out
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Inevitable that the same person that fatted us calves
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would now feed on the soft parts of our lower backs
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Rather than humble and take to our knees to the homely we proclaim
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You cannot buy love you cannot sell feelings
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Have at me with your most primitive touch
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Secretaries now make great lovers
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As do those we had never considered. To a burning empire
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We were meant to eat eachother.
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The sound of cracking bones shall be the music that plays us out
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Hey Kid. I'm A Computer. Stop All The Downloading
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| Fear Before The March Of Flames |
