Bathory's Sainthood

Do you feel alive now - now that you own the dead

Preying on their corpses - their hearts no longer fed

Your sainthood is obvious on every starving face

Your deceptions gives us a way to seperate

The poor from their hate the rich from the stone

Genuflect away the sins that we've known

Sure one percent rules, but heaven's made of gold

So chalk it up to folly and consequence alone

Do we really want, do we really need a bastard massiah, wrapped up in the dream of patriotic clean white washed desire

And every time the real war's defined - the trenches are filled to hide battle lines

Torches to bridges and bridges to torture headlines distort what we see as our borders

And what gives us the right to feel with remorse for a God they created a God for the poor

For bathory we're bleeding out the devil hides in angelic shrouds

Blasphemy as speaking out we've asked for it for more of the same sad scheme of ghettos created by the power elite

For our minds and souls burning no longer for freedom invoked

Just more of the same