How bovine is all the mud I have to choke down The wounds of these parasites The mankind is no longer destiny's child Pathetic orgasms of your views devour your own soul As manic and possessed by fraud The grotesque of paradox thinking You feed the wold with earthlings as you are I mourning and can barely feel me You eat souls which also can feel So your own The false belief that individuality is a sign of belonging From where my hate comes — you asking It's because I love so many things But they are trambled by the presence of the death Who — when they look into my eyes Then they know they are there If this is our truth — then I want to be a liar The harvest of our seed — so let me be the fire On head you're wearing the roots And wonder why you can't stand in your mire Time for new mercenaries — I need your hand to hire you The bull by the horns brings you always back to the end The longer you're on crusade the smaller will be your land Oh — what a wonderful meal I smell I want to touch it Is it what it seems to be Oh — how I have longed for it I have to taste it Crawl deep into my throat The force of the invincible was dried up As we begun to made our clothes From the skin of our children We love them — abhor them — we love