Of Dull Eyes Borne

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Psycroptic
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Текст, перевод и аккорды “Of Dull Eyes Borne”
Have you ever asked yourself what is the purpose of life- why is our history so unproven why is there so many different stories of evolution some may believe we evolved from primates but others say that God created Adam and Eve there are some who believe we were created from the soil. I say no to this we were created by aliens as was our entire world for them we– are just an experiment to be used by the aliens for scientific purposes they gave us– such desire– so we are- the creatures most likely to ruin our environment they created all things, equal in the beginning (but) throughout history, changed our psyches Now the human race has lost its every bit of dignity killing fellow beings as many die in poverty self obsessed people are the downfall of society aliens are impressed by our suicide ability. -Bastards- pulling on our puppet strings and laughing as we scream and cry they are watching us intently through the darkened skies picking us at random to abduct and take samples from they're recording our moves chronologically think of all the things we don't know about life like why our skin colours range between black and white why are there different languages spoken in different countries why do we hate our 'brothers'. we– all– bleed– red- so do the animals we kill, for our game and for our meal why do we kill all those that we consider below ourselves what is with our society we are selfish creatures, that are controlled by injections from these dull eyed beings those of grey are masters of our life we delude ourselves that we are in control we are simple lifeforms, we have low intelligence we are nothing more than aliens' pets we make aimless journeys, just to visit places we've seen in some glossy brochure or on a screen see the lights in the sky at night, what are they? you stop and stare, you are paralysed by a blinding light wake up– on steel, you are lying on your back held down– with clamps, there's a machine above you alien– device, testing the threshold of your pain pierces– your eyes, with a fine needle feel their presence, they're standing along side you operating the machine, preparing more tests to go they do not have mercy, they see it as a sin they start to drill, inside your cerebrum -you– cannot cry– forced– submission- they force a needle into you and you drift back to where you were while they cut you finely and inspect every part for contaminants that you've induced so they can make new poisons for the next human, on which they experiment.

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