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The Way Things Should End

Torn Open
Popularity · Low
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Lyrics

Bearing the facilities to fix the world Wasted on pleasure Sin of a glutton much more atrocious Than what your morals cry I hope no one saves your ashes Flowerless woe-ridden grave Avarice digs you six feet under Burning in hell dead and cashless How do you carry on? Does it not affect you? Knowing the hurt that you choose to cause You have the means to mend the destruction you've wrought We are all marionettes strung along to facilitate this tyrannical reign The hands Of the rich move so effortlessly Contorting the strings of fabricated triumph But the empty palms of starving children in Gaza remain vacant And the same You kill them for what? What more could possibly feed your sick psychopathy Driven greed How have you overcome such a dissonance? Money pipelining straight to the facilities Building terrorizing, destructive weapons Hundreds of thousands of dead women, children Fuck your life We'll muster the will to overthrow In due time Karma will take her visit You'll pay what you owe You have earned nothing more- Than a slow Guilt ridden Death