A tagged and numbered war machine in their eyes...
a task of grasping, and moulding my mind
Into a state of hate

for a covered mistake they have made...
Corruption grows and reflects back to you
and beats you at your own game,

Still feeding your fetish of disaster is our sick mind
which keeps you alive
This sickening gathering of ambitious flesh and blood,

Into this hostile world they've made,
Of total masquarade !
Prevailing is not an option

And it will never cross my mind
To hell with your phantom glory
A page of ridicule in my story!


Your so called respect for the flag,
They rise in the sky in winds of lies of the past

Through time that they have dragged..
Blinded by ignorant ethnic pride, leaving humanity rotting at the side !