Servants of Progress - text
Bred for the wheel...
Running like a dog far too long waiting for a chance to 'be' learning your lessons with pride the fall into line.
Your class inclination is to work consume and breed.
You bury your dead where you eat.
But never forget this world is infinite.
Work another day
punch that clock
watching your life pass by.
Sucking all flesh from the bone
your fruit all but rotten.
A spectar comes haunting again as Babylon sleeps.
Your enemies once were your friends
your life... all dead.
You are your own destroyer.
Hang the masters from the highest tree and let their dead eyes strake back at their children.
... Is this how we want to live...?
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