What does a megalomaniac who has it all
Crave in his dreams, in his sleep
How could he want more - than every thing
Does he dream of riches or is it of conquest
The idea of taking it all
In his name, for his greed
As they pull the blindfold over our eyes
We still hear them up in the skies
Dropping fire, to scrub the memory of you and me
We are fed through the conveyor belts of their industry
Like bullets, like cattle, helplеssly witnessing our end
As we watch thеm pave our lands
Deforesting the place we called home
Making roads for their vehicles
To transport their economy of wastefulness
Mechanizing
Flattening me
Wrought with disease
Blanket of weeds
Cracking grounds beneath our feet
Laying pipe and circuitry
Transforming our villages into
Mechanical digestive systems
Mechanizing
Flattening me
Wrought with disease
Blanket of weeds
We are fed through the conveyor belts of their industry
Like bullets, like cattle, helplessly witnessing our end
We are fed through the conveyor belts of their industry
Like bullets, like cattle, helplessly witnessing our end
We are fed through the conveyor belts of their industry
Like bullets, like cattle, helplessly witnessing our end