Butcher
What would the world be
If you could change history
Is the world a better place
Or is it filled with misery
No one can justify humankind
Creatures filled
With repentance and violence
We have swallowed our conscience
And we try to sell it as a sacrifice
To those who have suffered
So we can thrive
In the land of pigs
The butcher is king
Souls are his only meal
What the f
What the f
What is wrong with us
Fooling masses to fill the camps
With walking corpses resembling man
You all should know one thing
The butcher will find us all
Where is the will
To live in peace
Isn't there any other way
Fanatics fighting in wars
Slaughtering each other
Don't pity dead
Pity the living
Millions have died in gas
Why?
Is this who we are
Murderers?
Do we really deserve this gift of mind
When we kill and torture by command
Mothers
Fathers
Even the young
There is no difference
They all have to die
In the land of pigs
The nature cries when innocent die
The butcher is king
He sits on the throne from skulls and bones
Souls are his only meal
With the odor of burnt human flesh
And the taste of ashes in the air
It is easy to hide from the guilt
When it's not your blood
That's being spilled
With a weapon in hand
We'll march through your land
Raping who we please
Shooting all that breathes
All hail the butcher
If you could change history
Is the world a better place
Or is it filled with misery
No one can justify humankind
Creatures filled
With repentance and violence
We have swallowed our conscience
And we try to sell it as a sacrifice
To those who have suffered
So we can thrive
In the land of pigs
The butcher is king
Souls are his only meal
What the f
What the f
What is wrong with us
Fooling masses to fill the camps
With walking corpses resembling man
You all should know one thing
The butcher will find us all
Where is the will
To live in peace
Isn't there any other way
Fanatics fighting in wars
Slaughtering each other
Don't pity dead
Pity the living
Millions have died in gas
Why?
Is this who we are
Murderers?
Do we really deserve this gift of mind
When we kill and torture by command
Mothers
Fathers
Even the young
There is no difference
They all have to die
In the land of pigs
The nature cries when innocent die
The butcher is king
He sits on the throne from skulls and bones
Souls are his only meal
With the odor of burnt human flesh
And the taste of ashes in the air
It is easy to hide from the guilt
When it's not your blood
That's being spilled
With a weapon in hand
We'll march through your land
Raping who we please
Shooting all that breathes
All hail the butcher
Credits
Writer(s): Martin Kyjovský
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