All comfort has it’s consequence

There is blood in our leisure

Cold killer is out playing the savior

Ignorant victims are blind to the crime



The slow ache in my chest is universal

The soft tremor in your spine, it knows no boundaries

The pied piper has an agenda

Of crusades and material incentives

Survival games for frozen souls

March along to the chimes of failure



Crowned butcher you’re far from civilized

Claiming progress in poisoned hearts



Our security is stained with suffering

This is the land of silent tragedy

Pathetic surrenders cannot be denied

Our love is drowned in milk and honey



Patriots in the mortuary

You find your pride in decline

This culture, or lack thereof

It is not mine