To serve without purpose is the human condition A thousand generations grovelling
Adherent to the hollow dreams of others Arbitrary paths to insignificance
Trivial achievements praised, generic prosperity Abundance for the spineless Civilized like vermin
Mediocrity puts food in the mouths of the common On their knees with their heads in the trough The fortunate hold contempt as they consume, shit and breed Flaunting their offspring like material accessories Rewards for the death of innovation
A lack of direction precedes the will to create The myth of freedom sedates them
Yet terrified by the concept of a free man To toil or starve, to beg or die
Poverty for the pure is the price of honesty Submit or be left for dead,
Our honour keeps us cold and hungry Destitute in resistance To question is decadent To survive is to serve without purpose
Striving for a purpose, dying without cause.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
