Song Of The Sirens

The capitalist regime
Total terror
The shiny war machine
Brand new technic


With the sound of sirens
You justify your couse
And with tourture
You stain your hands

A sacrifeced body
For a pile of paper
Or a canister
Full with fule


Just to be sure
I'm pumped with poison
Still some can tell
Right from self-destruction


The thick black blood
That runs throught you'r veins
Feeding the hunger
That keeps you alive



To build a structure
Of pure hate
Pull the curtain
Of what you know

A raised flag
To make us proud
With the rightus
Of murder