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Regurgitated Lullaby For The Born Dead

Beneath the Massacre

Prowling along the edge of misery. Suffocating on hope of
better days. Questioning minds fed with the myth of opportunity. Born-dead Death at birth. Unwanted Still essential. Exploited As they want. Born-dead But shall rise. Destiny chosen by fortunate ones, wounded for life. Can't become a master when you're born a slave. Death for those who will speak loud. Slavery for the shut mouths. Mortification for majority so that masters keep sleeping in their castles built of gold. A child's dream, nothing but dreams, will soon start to burn and turn to ashes. The production equation doesn't bring wealth for every one, a thing to benefit the fortunate onesempowered ones. Awake the born dead.