Boy Sets Fire 

 

  

 

   Bathory's Sainthood

 

 

  Do you feel alive now that you own the dead

  Praying on their corpses, their hearts no longer feel

  Your sainthood is obvious on every starving face

  Your deception's given us a way to separate

  The poor from their hate, the rich from the stone

  Genuflect away the sins that we've known

  Sure one percent rules, but heaven's made of gold

  So chalk it up to folly and consequence alone

  Do we really want what we really need a bastard messiah

  Wrapped up in the dream of patriotic clean white washed desire

   

  

  And every time the real war's defined, the trenches are filled to hide battle lines

  Torches to bridges and bridges to torture

  Headlines distort what we see as our borders

  And what gives us the right to feed with remorse for a god they created

  A god for the poor, for bathory we're bleeding out the devil hicks in angelic shrouds

  Blasphemy as speaking out we've asked for it for more of the same

  Sad scheme of ghettos created by the power elite, for our minds and souls burning

  No longer for freedom invoked just more of the same.