Land of Treason (The Germs)

Land of treason-waste no reason- we are breathing fire We're packs of dogs- we're enemies of men-we are not desired Our face show- we've grown cold-but have not conspired Old hearts gone- the future's on-mother nations mired I like a recepticle for the chosen dead, we find our bodies clawed And with the scent of death, we find that we are not so very awed Loyalties burned- the words our blurred-overturn your own Walk like dogs and watch the doors- have your other stone Stop the toys that match disordered- calculate the thrones Feel the pulse descending- decaying hallowed tomes In the starving sense you worship- the nations of debris You wear a cost of sewage- that you've never ever seen The time is now-the vicious here- a stolen dinner code The license of the savage land- that you've always sold So bite the hand that needs you and bless another coal The virus never issues- from a cotton so very old As the lights come down You wash your hands and start to climb the ladder that you stole Slip the hatch-and spin the sword- the money lords are poor Push the tan-that rolls downhill- their sense of dream absorbed Still the cat that breaks the night- tie him to the core Chase the viruses that believe- that what's right is scored It's a senseless cash in of right for right- what's wrong is never gone And left is just a bassion for the fools golden dawn