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

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

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