Do you feel alive now - now that you own the deadnPreying on their corpses - their hearts no longer fednYour sainthood is obvious on every starving facenYour deceptions gives us a way to seperatenThe poor from their hate the rich from the stonenGenuflect away the sins that we've knownnSure one percent rules, but heaven's made of goldnSo chalk it up to folly and consequence alonenDo we really want, do we really need a bastard massiah, wrapped up in the dream of patriotic clean white washed desirenAnd every time the real war's defined - the trenches are filled to hide battle linesnTorches to bridges and bridges to torture headlines distort what we see as our bordersnAnd what gives us the right to feel with remorse for a God they created a God for the poornFor bathory we're bleeding out the devil hides in angelic shroudsnBlasphemy as speaking out we've asked for it for more of the same sad scheme of ghettos created by the power elitenFor our minds and souls burning no longer for freedom invokednJust more of the same