Misery Index

Overthrow tracks

Lyrics


1. Manufacturing Greed

Commodify the vision and sanctify the rape with moral antidotes.
Wide awake and dead, we consumate the bond, stomach tied in knots.
Driving class relations, engines working hard, this mechanism breeds
contradictions.
Bury expectations, nothing's going to last, the tide is turning back -
revocation.

They can't control us, there's nothing left.
Our thirst for vengeance, your dying breath.
It's a quiet revolution, from the city to the fields.
We're not forgotten, reject this greed machine.

Hope is for the hopeless, dreaming for a life as opiates replace human
passion.
Advertise our weakness, colonize our space, feed the appetite as force fed
gluttons.

It's life in dead time, it's self-decay.
Their so-called heaven now rots away.
It's a quiet revolution, from the city to the fields.
We're not forgotten, reject this greed machine.

With golden eyes our gods will lead us.
As labor slaves we work away.
Drunk and baited, packaged, processed.
This market orgy fucks for pay.

Cutting through the lies that bind us.
Fist-fucking the status quo.
We loot and burn their paradise.
Burn.

Their planet's just a whorehouse, based on greed and avarice.
Demand your life and take it back, their world is dead and drunk on piss.
You're a slave if your collar's white, a slave if your collar's blue.
Chains locked around your neck, you'll work too hard, you'll work to death.

Tides of human flotsam floating, tired and alone.
The ones who want to fight are the ones that have no hope.
Bury all your trust just like you buried all your dreams.
The ends that justified their rule will justify our means.




2. Your Pain Is Nothing

Bled dry and gutted clean in this maledictive maze.
Assembly lines are full of dreams and promises of cathode rays.
Can I afford a life? The walls are caving in... again.

Gears turn and metal burns in my atavistic daze.
Their pacifistic paramours just sodomize and walk away.
Starving hearts and hollow heads in dialectic dread.
As economistic carnivores bleed the population red.

Standing alone again, eternal wait.
The absence of empathy, so out of date.
The body will age, the mind will rot.
The essence of apathy, we're parasites.

The ending of time has yet to start.
We're standing in line, yet miles apart.
Our will to live, the fate that we share,
Belies the fact that we never care.

Caves of raw steel, the modern graveyard.
What human failures promise for us.
Day turns into night.

Spirits shred and will drains, reinjected fiscal fix.
Cash gods and money whores guarantee the perfect trip.
Hate thrives as stressed lives cultivate their capital.
Cities grow and people die as the rich stuff their guts full.

Sometimes I can never bleed enough to forget that I'm alive.

Standing alone again, eternal wait.
The absence of empathy, so out of date.
The body will age, the mind will rot.
The essence of apathy, we're parasites.

The ending of time has yet to start.
We're standing in line, yet miles apart.
Our will to live, the fate that we share,
Belies the fact that we never care.

Caves of raw steel, the modern graveyard.
What human failures promise for us.
Day turns into night.




3. Blood On Their Hands

One time, the last rendition, too long I've sacrificed.
Dead stones in walls of freedom, built high with filth and vice.

So blind you walk into their chapels, morality enthroned.
What price this god of mass invention extracts to make you whole?

Your crimes defy your wisdom, no faith can set you free.
Unleashed through vile maxims, your doctrines bleed deceit.

Mental crucifixion, what flesh can serve your needs?
Unchained, I crawl to exit your shrine of rotting dreams.




4. Pulling Out The Nails

Falling fast through cracks in heaven, carnivores in search of meat.
The prophets of the moral order lead their herds of silent sheep.

Architects of social breeding propagate their promised faith.
Fascist seed is firmly planted, loving hands now turn to rape.
Armies of the middle class embed their youth with reason's tools.
What callous ill-begotten race could build a nation born of fools?

Pulling your nails... outward.
Pulling your nails.

Resurrect the age-old weapon, keep them drunk so no one thinks.
Sciences of mass deception, global propaganda schemes.
Liberate the dead among us, history's not preordained.
Anarchistic undertakers overthrow their overlords.

Black sheep soon all grow in number, congregations multiply.
Shepherds of the dead world order watch their flock collapse and die.

What does it take for a nation to believe,
To die on its feet instead of living on its knees?
What will it take for a conscious working class,
To put the greedy in their graves with their money up their ass?

The story of the year is the story of the day.
The people never change they just look the other way.
The world doesn't wait for the bodies of the weak.
The enemy is time, freedom's never free.




5. Dead Shall Rise

[originally by Terrorizer]