I know, that I'll grow...
Into, your foe...

Your show, (got closed...oh oh oh)
Has closed (whoa oh, oh oh oh, oh)
Your soul spark, exposed... (whoa oh oh oh, oh)

I know, that you'll grow...
Into, your hole...
'Cos you stole, your young...
Helpless now as [bad word] to blows...with your spurious tone...

You cannot reason, with the one who wears the crown,
So they leave us with no choice but to shut this engine down,
And although it makes you sad, to murder our machine,
It's high time we left the hive; these worker bees must kill the Queen...

You've mourned, your slaves...
You wanted us like flowers.. [bad word] on us like graves...
You want...our votes...
Guns in our backs...knives at our throats...

You cannot reason, with the one who wears the crown,
So they leave us with no choice but to shut this engine down,
And although it makes you sad, to murder our machine,
It's high time we left the hive; these worker bees must kill the Queen...