[Intro - solo acoustic fingerpick, no drums, ambient silence between notes] [Verse 1 - dry whisper, almost conversational, no reverb, intimate] It takes a special kind of will... to trap others in your spell. You created hell. And crawl — when you hear your bell. Pedigree. Nobility. Oblige be damned — you've shown your hand. Fetid-tongued lord of dung. A sophist slurring truthful lies. [Spoken - nearly inaudible, single note drone beneath] An altar of gold smelted from old. A hundred year curse. This millennial thirst — we're not your first. [Pre-Chorus - first hint of bass, still hushed] Preach humanity... while leaving your family... and in the end — you'll see. [Chorus 1 - tone shifts, first darkness enters, muted funk groove] The rope hanging from a tree. [Interlude - distorted guitar creeps in, drums enter low, pace quickens] [Verse 2 - post-punk, more aggressive, half-sung half-spoken] We all tire of the peaceful lies. Pyres built while we sit and sigh. These people tell us that we'll be okay, Yet it gets darker with every day. A man — an island? A man none can stand. Killed religion? How quaint. Now bend over and lick your taint. Seven times seventy is not infinity — But the union of need and divinity. Our dignity, our posterity, Is not a prosperity To be plundered by ignorant masses Or elitist jackasses. [Pre-Chorus - harder, almost shouting] Preach unity, Then ignore your family, And in the end you'll see, [Chorus 2 - heavy metal riff, driving rhythm, second gear-shift] The rope hanging from a tree. [Bridge - thundering, relentless, alt-metal breakdown] We all tire of the peaceful lies. Pyres built while we try not to cry. These people tell us that it's okay, Yet it gets darker with every day. [Verse 3 - full death metal, screaming vocals, blast beats] Are you dense? It's not a chain — it's a fence. A rod by God To keep your progressive tendency In line with your community. Two hundred thousand — RAPED — Not enough to sate? While behind closed doors You self-congratulate. Capitalism? Communism? A farce. A scam. To hide the knife within the hand. Moloch. Baal. WE KNOW YOUR PLAN. [Final Chorus - screaming, full wall of sound, third gear-shift] We all tire of the peaceful lies. Pyres built while we wait to die. These people tell us to sit and stay, While it gets darker with every day. [Outro - climactic scream, crashing, then sudden silence] Preach unity, While eating your family, And in the end you'll see — The rope hanging from a tree. [End - abrupt cut to silence]
