The natives dance to poison drums
Gentle sway to funeral drugs
Machines drone the cannibal's feast
The healers snap their oily teeth

The vials reek with foundry waste
Black blood bleeds corrupted grace
The coward sleeps the pagan sighs
And angels take the form of flies
The coward sleeps the pagan sighs
Angels take the form of flies

The moral washed the conscience cleaned
All praise to the death machine
The gods create, the inventor's paid
Hemlock surges through our veins moral
Washed the conscience cleaned all praise
To the death machine death machine