Here we are in confusion Could be its all an illusion Who knows the times to come The years to face, the race to run We believe in graven image We believe in the fight to the finish We desire the almighty dollar The pound of flesh, the golden collar Lick the hand, we give our land to dogs Here we are in the years The blood, the sweat, the tears Have made us bondage slaves In a world that we never made, The politicians lick our bones, The tacticians, hearts of stone They turn us against our brothers Make us fight and kill each other Locked in lust we put our trust in dogs Here we are again, The dead still look the same Who cares theyre soon forgotten Nobody loves corpse thats rotten Your fathers, mothers, daughters, sons Have been taken by the chosen ones But dont forget you made the choise, You made your mark, you raised your voice, Theyre all the same, youre all to blame Youre dogs
dog, made, lick, tactician, choise