Cut Out Their Tongues

[Intro] [Distorted bass swells] [Cold, industrial clatter] [Aggressive, rhythmic breathing] [Verse 1] The gallows stand in silence where the commoners once spoke A heavy fog of mandates, a velvet-lined choke Observe the quill is broken, the parchment stained with brine To deviate from doctrine is to cross a marked red line You see, the shape of the spirit depends on open speech But they prefer the iron fist, the blunt and brutal reach A careful kind of muzzling, a planned and quiet erasure A measured act of cruelty, sold as order, sold as structure Is it treason to describe what the naked eye can see? Or must we fit the pattern they have carved for you and me? Hush now, the walls have ears, the wires hum beneath the ground In this green and pleasant country, the truth is buried down [Chorus] When you cut out the tongue, you do not kill the lie You only prove the fear behind the force you justify You tell the world you tremble at the words he might deploy To silence is to prove the thing you want to destroy [Heavy, distorted 808 crash] Cut out their tongues! [Screamed] Don’t let your freedom of speech be silenced! Cut out their tongues! [Screamed] Don’t let your freedom of speech be silenced! [Verse 2] A sharpened public cadence cutting through the double-time Exposing each redaction and each carefully veiled crime We speak against your censorship, it only feeds the rage While every quiet mandate works to subtly enslave It is a ruthless measure, a calculated spite To bury every signal deep and keep it out of sight You drive the truth to impalement on the edge of your own sword Then shield the hand that placed it there—the architects of fraud The crime is thought itself, the charge is plain and clear In a theatre of shadows where the guards still feed on fear Put the muzzle on the heretic, make sure the seam is tight But a voice denied today can still return tomorrow night [Bridge] [Tempo slows, bass becomes suffocating] Power clings tighter when control starts to slip Authority fractures at the edge of its grip When the boot is on the neck, the body learns to know Don't speak. Don't breathe. Cut out their tongues. The truth is redacted. [Outro] The world is watching the extraction. Your terror is the loudest sound in the room. [Sudden silence] [End]