Текст (слова) песни: Misery Index - Blood On Their Hands

One time, the last rendition, too long Ive sacrificed.
Dead stones in walls of freedom, built high with filth and vice.

So blind you walk into their chapels, morality enthroned.
What price this god of mass invention extracts to make you whole?

Your crimes defy your wisdom, no faith can set you free.
Unleashed through vile maxims, your doctrines bleed deceit.

Mental crucifixion, what flesh can serve your needs?
Unchained, I crawl to exit your shrine of rotting dreams.
Другие песни Misery Index:

Angst Isst Die Seele
Blood On Their Hands
Bottom Feeders
Demand the Impossible
History is Rotten
Manufacturing Greed
Order Upheld / Dissent Dissolved
Pulling Out The Nails
Retaliate
Servants of Progress
The Great Depression
The Lies that Bind
The Unbridgeable Chasm
Your Pain Is Nothing