Teksty: Funeral. Ruled By None. The National Convention.

Black and white, choice of two. We forget our dreams and become machines. We toil away, day after day to build a nation that exploits each other. I don't know how, but it sunk in somehow, that freedom is death to a world that has given up on itself. Passing days away in slavery. We can't wake up from this nightmare. Idiosyncratic words and syllables don't do much for idiots and imbeciles who are trough-fed sound bites from dogmatic convicts - righteous in their own repetition, controlling the hordes who are bred into submission. Submission. We can't wake up from this nightmare