Текст, перевод и аккорды “Meet Reality”
- Outside your gated homes, The world begins where your street ends, Yet in time, your demons will come crawling back, Praise God for what you have in life, For your wealth is as hollow as the heart you hold inside. A nightmare in three dimensions, This opulence embraced by man, Reapers of the peasant's harvest, Gorging on the fat of the land, Caged in worldly mansions, Picking vassals out from the poor, Worship at the altar of avarice, Where Bourgeois man is born, As dead men walking spoiled earth, Who spend their shining coffers dry, With thirst never quenched nor quelled, ...You ever think to question "why"? Outside your window of comfort, It's like night of the living dead, For each dime you bleed from another, The stench of your poverty spreads, Defining the world in equations, Commodity prices and fees, You see other humans as cattle, To service the gluttonous beast, A werewolf's banquet, Of ostentatious parody, Masquerading fortunes, Amassed through servility, As you eat them alive... now meet your slaves, Gomorrah caving in, on your precious homes, Four walls falling fast...
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