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Dead In The Dirt
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Can They Suffer?
Thrown into this filth routine
Baring their teeth, hammer comes down
Twist the knife, cut out their tongues
Blood drains down, when hung from rungs
'Can they suffer?'
Chained to the fucking floor
With the ravenous mouth screaming more
For this is the heartlessness of men
Victims of consumer convenience
Your fucking lies only serve
As proof of your hypocrisy
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A tradition built upon
Pure barbarity
Moral contradiction
No hope for humanity
With a heart able to feel pain and loneliness
With mind able to understand love and fear
Is this tradition worth the lives it's taken?
For every life liberation.
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