VERSE 1:
I hear the drummers of war,
Pound in the distance, they're calling my name,
And I won't fear once my ears begin ringing.
The church of the Babylon whore,
Is about to erupt in a column of flame,
And if I burn I will not feel it stinging.
And as they force us to hail to the chief,
We'll swallow the pill and suspend disbelief,
Resign our will trapped in blind resolution.
But they'll know the whistle of the blade,
When we find the promises they've made,
Were treachery wrapped in a black constitution.
PRECHORUS 1:
When our bones turn to dust, and there's no one to trust,
They'll dance on the fugitives' graves;
They'll cry "Off with their heads," spend the presidents dead,
We'll fall for the choices we've made, so,
CHORUS:
Bow down for the prophets above,
Enthroned on Capitol Hill, and
Bow down for the dying you love,
And maybe they'll make 'em a pill;
As they sharpen the ax,
They'll charge us the tax,
For the grindstone they stole from our mill, so
Bow down with the peasants below,
And maybe you'll join them, once you've abandoned your will.
VERSE 2:
They ask us to shoulder a massacre's cost,
Refuse to give answers for all that we've lost,
But we won't be silenced in our revocation.
Now is the time for the people to stand,
Take back the reigns from invisible hands,
Balance the scales in a grand reformation.
PRECHORUS 2:
We've seen those that we trust lying dead in the dust,
Sent to anonymous graves,
So we'll tear and we'll rend,
Screaming "It's not the end!"
They'll fall for the choices they made, so
(CHORUS)
CODA:
Electric eyes,
Will hypnotize,
While the man in disguise keeps feeding us lies.
(repeat x1)
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