We're all crawling to the beat of the mass march
Our good name has been dragged through the dirt
Blood freaks need another victim
The dead god wants to take on the world
But we are living in a simulacra
A copy of a copy of a previous set-up
Cold War, eternal, justified Slack
Or the nuclear remittance of our souls to the wrack
Frail, old, and weak
The local warlords are repeating their plots
They're full of leaks
Their skin is peeling and revealing the rot
Spun out from the high of a century
Killing hope is the name of the game
You will bow to the god of finance!
We'll sanction you to death as a payment in advance
The American titan seeks out it's prey
But if you buy blood, we'll look the other way
I'm drowning in stats, and the numbers are fucked
Who's buying their shit? Who's passing the buck?
The veil has lifted to reveal the claw
We should sever the hand that forms the claw