They honour their dead with poppies.
They honor their dead with prayers.
They honor their dead with promises and remember once a year.
They built them a memorial.
It was called a cenotaph
and every 2nd sunday in november
they go and spout some crap.
Trident's Thatchers freudian fantasy,
pay homage to their god.
They'll let you live as long as they want
and then they tell you STOP!
They brainwash the populas into believing,
That they're the ones who're right
They show them lists of figures,
just regurgitated shite.
They honor their dead and deprive their families.
Destined for work but live on the dole.
We're the ones in poverty while in money they roll.
You're the new dead your their new heroes.
They honor their dead with prayers.
They honor their dead with promises and remember once a year.
They built them a memorial.
It was called a cenotaph
and every 2nd sunday in november
they go and spout some crap.
Trident's Thatchers freudian fantasy,
pay homage to their god.
They'll let you live as long as they want
and then they tell you STOP!
They brainwash the populas into believing,
That they're the ones who're right
They show them lists of figures,
just regurgitated shite.
They honor their dead and deprive their families.
Destined for work but live on the dole.
We're the ones in poverty while in money they roll.
You're the new dead your their new heroes.
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Album: You Fuel The Fire
Testo e maggiori informazioni su Blood Robots - anarchoscene