The roaches we have bred Are so well fed Bursting wide open With their shit They, too, have done Too much to live So killed by their Own decadence Feeding, writhing, All scavenging, all a corpse Start going crazy, think "God will feed me, God will save me" Searching the sky above, believe "God will help me, God will love me" But there's... No reason to believe In anything Unless you, too, need That old dream Seems we have done Too much to live And die by our Own arrogance Chomping, tearing All cannibals, all remorse So start embracing, hope "God will heal me, God will reach me" Hunt the sky above, and trust "God will hear me, God will love me" But there's no more savior (misguided) No more savior (discarded) You may believe your deity will listen You may believe your deity will be here again Blind yourself to claim your reward Repeating to yourself all you have heard |
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