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 and the guilty blaze; another sort of road 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 bassion for the fools golden dawn