Lletres: Final Fight. Machines.

A funeral three times a day
a disgusting product rests in walking graves
lies between your teeth
with no voices to scream
and all the blood to bleed
we fight losing battles
that force us to our knees

disconnect from the process of production
swallow lies and normalize consumption

suffering makes the world go 'round
(suffering) and we know it all too well
suffering
makes the world go 'round
(suffering) hunger on our minds
(suffering) locked in our sights
(suffering) born, set to kill

avoidance of a dead tradition
oppressed by the same powers
we both live chained and weakened
counting down the final hours
it's the scent of suffering we love
it's the taste of violence we crave
a massacre, a war, a one sided beating
packaged and sold with a seal of "hate"

stop this bloody axe from swinging
pray my broken heart keeps beating
stop. this. axe.