We fell asleep in arms that fondled our teeth and sold them off to thieves
Now we sell ourselves around
Only time will tell if stories like these will share the same fate
Regiments of disconnects emerge in a moronic gentleman's war with their eyes, their eyes blindfolded they rise
Kneeling and trembling before him
Waiting on knowledge, fed to us with a plastic spoon
Consuming the scraps, of the misquoted and deceased, with every word spoken today
Make what you will and understand, a typical feud nurtured, over many moons past
Beyond the drought worn hillside, a figure appears as the cumulus over us darkens, we look up to face our fears
And by the rise of his all powerful hand, he sets vengeance and proclaims "Follow me or be [bad word] to the depths of weak mannered simpletons. You have nowhere to hide, bow before me."
The regiments morale dwindles
As they stare at me I yell, "As we perish may our blood that spills, be not taken in vain, giving us continuance."
And as he slaughtered them all one by one, I watched from a distance, waiting for the chance to raise my hand
"No more, will I be under your manipulation"
I [bad word] forward, with my perceptive glove, gathering all my strength, thou shalt now disappear [bad word] and beaten, severed head in hand
The archetype has failed
We''never forget...
We fell asleep in arms that fondled our teeth and sold them off to thieves
Now we sell ourselves around
Regiments of disconnects with their eyes, their eyes blindfolded they rise
Battlefields colored with creeds
Their eyes blindfolded, the rise into this world