Servants of progress
Bred for the wheel...
Running like a dog far too long
waiting for a chance to 'be'
learning your lessons with pride then fall into line
your class inclination is to work
you bury your dead where you eat
but never forget this world is infinite
Work another day
punch that clock
watching your life pass by
sucking all flesh from the bone
your fruit all but rotten
a spectar comes haunting again as Babylon sleeps
your enemies once were your friends
your life...all dead
You are your own destroyer...
Hang the masters from the highest tree and let their dead eyes stare back at
...is this how we want to live...?