You are the shamen, believed, how you drag us to guilt.
Split tongue delegation in the house of complication that you built,
All high words, all gold and thunder, to tame, to keep us under,
Solemnly behind the chants, robed in gowns of fine-weave,
You are the killers, smooth, how you fill us with pain,
Light-touch regulation of compassion, your creation,my brother Cain.
No forgiving, no forgetting, deliver this bloodletting
Easily within your skin, without the reins of conscience flicking pleadings
At the sin of it all...
You are the brothers, touched, by the legions marched in shame.
Sharp-wit punctuation of the laws of situation, loss and gain,
Paragraphs and sentences, for defiance and repentances,
Wigged, upon the oaken bench, hard as bolted minds to break,
Noses held above the stench of life...
There are many schemes, all to grease the wheels,
Rats beside the bed, noise in every empty head,
This is the clamour of the new gods.
The old gods, the old gods, the old gods are dead.
There are blackguard hearts, more to heap the pain,
lies between the teeth, bribes to blot the stain,
This is the clamour of the new gods,
The old gods, the old gods, the old gods are dead,
The old gods are dead.