This isn't war
this is experimental death
we're just animals fighting for what's left
we feign intelligence
and embellish irrelevant lies
we're buying and selling shit
waiting to fuck up and die
We work till the day that we can't
either dead or done with the dance
there's a system for judging a man
catch him and cut off his hands
to watch him slowly advance
without a chance to grasp the situation
how do you handle expectation
To bend the will of another man's mind
is a crime we define as borderline acceptable
to watch for the thrill as another man dies
is a line we'll cross with some type of chemical
the way that a priest or the weatherman lies
defines what we find as ethical behavior
when the storm rolls by and you're still outside
know it's gonna rain on you and your neighbor
