Oh, what will become
Of this squandered, redundant youth
You continue cultivating them
Into the spewing, hateful image of you
But are you proud
Is your mind sound
You've taught them the importance of Ignoring their inhibitions
That suffering is entertainment
And conjecture is intendment
And yet, their voices are
The weakest of all
The march continues, blood and sinew grace the floor
But have you told them
Do they know
That they mean nothing
Nothing more than a nickels worth of lead
A price too high to trade a soul for
To defend a point in which you don't believe
What is this for
Why won't we learn from our mistakes
And history replays
The error of our ways
Silent martyrs
Blood spills without a sound
It consecrates the ground
Where we lay our bodies down
How many more must die
You've trained them well
Look how desensitized they are
How could they feel humility
When you've raped them of their ability
How can they choose their own path
When You've already lead them astray
Down a crimson road with their peers
Submissive reality
Delightfully austere
You've taught them the importance of Ignoring their inhibitions
That suffering is entertainment
And conjecture is intendment
And yet, their voices are
The weakest of all
The march continues, blood and sinew grace the floor
But have you told them
Do they know?
That they mean nothing
Why won't we learn from our mistakes?
And history replays
The error of our ways
Silent martyrs
Blood spills without a sound
It consecrates the ground
Where we lay our bodies down
How many more must die