I'm the blood I am the flesh
I will turn into dust
I need no control spells on my soul
I'll choose my way at last
Thought to be a slave

The wealth they need
The power they seek
They [bad word] ideals [bad word] soul leeching on faith
To make them bleed I see it spreads

Their domination, mutilation
They shatter boundaries
False prophecy, crowds on their knees
The end [bad word] from the east

Thought to obey

Illness we preach
Our world is sick

I won't obey madness and hate
The power that drains us
Choose other way, rot, decay
And just wait for something vile

Illness we preach
Our world is sick
Violence we preach
Our choices are missed

Lies unrevealed
The broken link
Concealed behind laughter
Your solution is revolution
But what'll remain after that

Born to be a slave
Thought to obey
Thought to be fake
Born