Like a spider spinning webs in your fetid hole You measure discontent with envy Darkness eats your soul You hatch your sordid little plots Every convert plays a part Your hateful faction grows Then crumbles as the center falls apart
Run for higher ground your back against the wall And watch your henchmen gather round As they rally to your call You unleash them on the world Like a wild savage horde And with their battle flags unfurled They clamor as their victims are ignored
Like a self-made petty god in your secret shrine Your hounds lay curled up on your feet Waiting for a sign Blaming others for your faults Bilging with your secret hate Your faithful turn away You see at last but now it is too lateTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
