Darby Crash - Land of Treason

Land of treason - waste no reason
we are breathing fire
We're packs of dogs - we're enemies of men
we are not desired
Our faces show - we've grown cold
but have not conspired
Old hearts gone - the suture's on
mother nations mired
I like a receptacle for the chosen dead
we find our bodies clawed
And with the scent of death, we find that
we are not so very awed

Loyalties burned- the words are blurred
overturn your own
Walk the dogs and watch the doors
have your other stone
Stop the toys that march disordered
calculate the thrones
Feel the pulse descending
decaying hallowed tomes
In the starving sense you worship
the nations of debris
You wear a cost of sewage
that you've never even seen

The time is now- the vicious here
a stolen dinner code
The licence of the savage land
that you've always sold
So bite the hand that needs you
and bless another coal
The virus never issues
from a cotton so very old
As the lights come down and the guilty blaze;
another sort of road
You wash your hands and start to climb
the ladder that you stole

Slip the latch- and spin the sword
the money lords are poor
Push the tank- that rolls downhill
their sense of doom absorbed
Still the cat that breaks the night
tie him to the core
Chase the virtue that believes
that what's right is scored
It's a senseless cash in of right for right
what's wrong is never gone
And left is just a bastion
for the fools golden dawn