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• Artiste: Ulcerate
• Titre: To Fell Goliath
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Lynch the god of disease And sever his wings Hang him upon the red beneath the green But the tyrants and sinners are waiting in line And the mob is thinning and there is no time With the blind masturbating the blind The prophets are left with no one to lead To fall on your sword Or charge from the trench Fall in to the black Or choke their fields with our dead Within the agony of the conscience To gorge at the trough or to starve to death Aversion of truths or affirmation of life History to live or history to end With the pinnacle past and crevice below To leave the concrete to crack and the steel to corrode Turn your back on this den of murderous thieves Or with stone in hand do we go for the head? A chance to cripple, cut them off at the knee A wrench in the works to fuck the machine