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