Death Machine
Jace Seavers, Roy Montroy
The natives dance to poison drums
Gentle sway to funeral drugs
Machines drone, the cannibal's feast
The healers snap their oily teeth
The vials reek with foundry waste
Black blood bleeds corrupted grace
The coward sleeps, the pagan sighs, and angels take the form of flies
The coward sleeps, the pagan sighs
Angels take the form of flies
The morals washed, the conscience cleaned
All praise to the death machine
The gods create, the inventor's paid
Hemlock surges through our veins
Morals washed, conscience cleaned
All praise to the death machine
Death machine