He's in your head
Slowly turning all your thoughts
Into dark clouds
That rage a storm deep inside your soul
His cunning voice
Poisons all good words
His dark sticky hands
Reach far and high
Making all elites
To be consumed in greed and corruption
He holds the strings
That move toy soldiers
To attack foreign lands
And stain their homes in crimson blood
As children watch
Their families being murdered
This is when the seed is planted
And all good is consumed
As the inner monsters are born
Their roars are the bullets
And their bites are the bombs
That take our son's limbs
And as they return
To their corrupted home
Their eyes are void
For their souls have been taken
Cemeteries lined with stones
That stretch beyond the horizon
Hold the bodies of the living dead
And the ring master's laugh
Echoes through Hell's door...