So, you know that man is a killer, he has killer’s hands.
But he became a tiller, groom to the land! And then;
War – as a motherfucking past time.
Home – a false hope, a fake cause!
Whores – you use your dick as a weapon.
Hoarde – once stole it’s yours!
This is disorder and it can be conspired away.
As much as is possible resemble least those you oppose!
It ain’t written that as man we must stay beasts
ruled by hunger and strife.
And the mould that was built by our own feats
cannot but crush life! And so;
War – as a motherfucking past time.
Home – a false hope, a fake cause!
Whores – you use your dick as a weapon.
Hoarde – once stole it’s yours!
Bound to this order; come to, breathe deep and conspire it away!
As much as is possible resemble least what you oppose!
Can you breathe it away?
Can you breathe your own way and build dreams together?
Can you breathe as one, man?
Toil! Your whole life a burden.
Scoffing crumbs as pay!
And still you serve them,
Oh won’t you disobey?
Could we reach higher, and serve the will of none?
Can we conspire and draw our breathe each one?
Oh masters are nought but men, yet they cause us pain
Bonds may be broken, but those of blood remain.
War – as the ultimate disaster,
Home – the great all the whole world,
Whores – the earth as your mother,
Hoarde - a hole in your pocket is what you need!
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