Renaissance of sycophancy in its staple form
The discipline to bow set down as anomalous norm
Another dose of poison from above
Haughty mouths of the chosen ones are insolent
Their ears deliberately not matured to hear
Revolt is my answer
The real feast is not for the plebeian eyes
Servile lackeys drinking inferior wine
They shall always be eating from the floor
These crooked trees bear rotten fruit,
Venomous apple in the serpents maw
Tempting rind surrounds putrid core.
I dont believe a word they say
Future has its own scenario
Equality is fake, all plebs are fake
Ongoing dormant plot of alliance of snakes
Latet anguis in herba*
Basic reptilian conception
Degeneration of generations
I wont negate myself
From a deep disdain my repulsion is gaining strength
I never float in the main stream
I wont transform into a majority serf
Odi profanum vulgus et arceo**
[* The snake is in the grass (Vergilius)]
[** I hate the foul rabble, I shun of that (Horatius)]
This lyric was posted anonymously. Not yet confirmed by Book of Metal.
