Our greatness shadows have all marked lines They are diverse Unmistakable signs Ideas of victory All golden shots A stone hierarchy which is drenched in blood The flesh becomes machine Life is resource Our ruin silhouettes The truncated mass gets scum as food The sunset promises the slaves no good The deeds leave traces and stinking wounds Seed thrives above the head Not on the ground The fat cats masturbate their spitting dicks And in the midst of their greed they just stay slick Life became a machine A self-killing force Our ruin silhouettes