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The hearts of men have grown tired and weak Welcome to all forms of corruption Blind to all, but power, profit and gain And all of our earthly possessions We decorate, happily our tombs to be With the brilliant art of illusion Perpetuating the cycle All surface, no depth Without destitution there would be no sickening wealth The medication, the guilt The low self-esteem and the nervous sweat The sleeping troubles, the cancers The heart attacks, the early deaths The end of justice, the radiant fires The waste left behind in the all-cleansing flames The poisonous fumes from our own funeral pyre The pesticide that we inhale We feed the machines with our blood, our sweat The phantoms are here, I can hear them Gathered in flocks they watch over our steps Our intellect, it must not be awakened With their broken promises, your broken backs By the new world order oppressed All who question their methods Letras de cancionesAll who question their reasons All who question their ethics Silenced by the crack of the whip of progress The medication, the guilt The low self-esteem and the nervous sweat The sleeping troubles, the cancers The heart attacks, the early deaths The end of justice, the radiant fires The waste left behind in the all-cleansing flames The poisonous fumes from our own funeral pyre The pesticide that we inhale All who question their methods All who question their reasons All who question their ethics Silenced by the crack of the whip of progress The medication, the guilt The low self-esteem and the nervous sweat The sleeping troubles, the cancers The heart attacks, the early deaths The end of justice, the radiant fires The waste left behind in the all-cleansing flames The poisonous fumes from our own funeral pyre The pesticide that we inhale x5 The pesticide that we inhale x5 From Letras Mania