Land of Treason

The Germs



Land of treason-waste no reason-
We are breathing fire
We're packs of dogs-
We're enemies of men-we are not desired
Our face show-
We've grown cold-but
Have not conspired
Old hearts gone-
The future's on-mother nations mired
I like a recepticle for the chosen dead
We find our bodies clawed
And with the scent of death
We find that we are not so very awed

Loyalties burned-
The words our blurred-overturn your own
Walk like dogs and watch the doors-
Have your other stone
Stop the toys that match disordered-
Calculate the thrones
Feel the pulse descending-
Decaying hallowed tomes
In the starving sense you worship-
The nations of debris
You wear a cost of sewage-
That you've never ever seen

The time is now-the vicious here-
A stolen dinner code
The license of the savage land-
That you've always sold
So bite the hand that needs you
And bless another coal
The virus never issues-
From a cotton so very old
As the lights come down
You wash your hands and start to climb
The ladder that you stole
Slip the hatch-and spin the sword-
The money lords are poor


Push the tan-that rolls downhill-
Their sense of dream absorbed
Still the cat that breaks the night-
Tie him to the core
Chase the viruses that believe-
That what's right is scored
It's a senseless cash in of right for right-
What's wrong is never gone
And left is just a bastion for the fools
Golden dawn