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• Artiste: Abney Park
• Titre: Virus
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It feeds on the souls of the living. It gets inside their minds. It transforms their brains and there longings, No consciousness you will find. It prays on their fears and emotions, As it has 2000 years. It controls who they cry with, controls who they play with, And keeps them all in tears. If you're nearly dead, it will keep you alive. And if you're alive, it keeps you nearly dead. It forces the body to seek the uninfected, And gets inside there head. Once your brain is infected, It changes what makes you pleased. Your purpose in live is to seek out the healthy, And add them to the diseased. In this way it spreads slowly All across the lands. Its infected the Hindus, infected the Buddhists, And bloodied all our hands. If you're nearly dead, it will keep you alive. And if you're alive, it keeps you nearly dead. It forces the body to seek the uninfected, And gets inside there head.