We are the Butchers
Gnawed on for ages
A bone is just a bone
From the vermin’s mouth
This is all our own
Cutting our teeth
On razors and broken glass
The Iron taste helps us focus
As it has come to pass
We rise and they sit
They jest and we quiver
Blood stained souls
Stagnation makes us shiver
Knee deep in liquid fear
Pounding on the walls
Delirious from the mundane
We are the torn apart rag-dolls
We are ruined
There are growths on our backs
Never getting momentum
None of us make our attacks
A Generation dead
Shells of what could have been
Chomping for excitement
Poised for now, stuck till then
Hatred is poured steadily
From a cup of hypocrisy
There is no revolution
There is no heresy
We aren’t breathing
We are deflating slowly
We’re not running forward
We’re crawling back
We can’t see the horizon
We can feel the storm
We aren’t you
But we don’t care
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