All comfort has it's consequence   There is blood in our leisure   Cold killer is out playing the savior   Ignorant victims are blind to the crime      The slow ache in my chest is universal   The soft tremor in your spine, it knows no boundaries   The pied piper has an agenda   Of crusades and material incentives   Survival games for frozen souls   March along to the chimes of failure      Crowned butcher you're far from civilized   Claiming progress in poisoned hearts      Our security is stained with suffering   This is the land of silent tragedy   Pathetic surrenders cannot be denied   Our love is drowned in milk and honey      Patriots in the mortuary   You find your pride in decline   This culture, or lack thereof   It is not mine