Текст песни Execute

It appears

That we have reached the edge,

That zenith where stimuli

And comatose collide.

Forty years ago, the man proclaimed

The age of the gross to be upon us,

And even though the man

Was destroying our heritage

And insulting our intelligence,

That era has become very real.

We labor for pleasure

And abhor the guilt of pressure.

My generation will go down

As the architects

Of contemporary disgust.

Some have fought and died.

Others have allowed the strong

To be butchered for a price

They themselves don't care about

And will never understand.

I myself am beleaguered

By the selfish face
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Of a kind of man

That is not mankind.

Distrust in information.

Fundamentalism of opinion.

Catastrophic boredom,

And a fanatical devotion

To that which does not matter.

Where is your glory now, people?

Where are your gods and politicians?

Where is your shame and salvation?

You rage for no reason

Because you have no reason.

What have you ever fought for?

What have you ever bled for?

The face of the earth is scarred

With the walking dead.

The age of the gross is a living virus.

This is the future you have created.

This is the world you have set ablaze.

All your lies are coming true.

All freedom is lost.

All hope is gone.