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• Artiste: Primordial
• Titre: The Seed Of Tyrants
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These are the traitors you called out One by one against the wall You wanted the President's dead And the wrists of the state bound In the books of the dead The myths of martyrs You created in the revolution Ring deep and hollow Now what will you do? When the barren earth That bears your scar Demands the seed of tyrants And not the reason of the mob Where there should be rage There is weeping and silent conformity Where cities should burn There is defeat so raise this pyre to infamy Where are the hands that hewed our future from rubble Not every statue to the great was conceit If the church had one neck I would wring it If the state had one artery I would sever it Torches to the parliament of swine And iron to the rights of fools