Everything is filled with dirt
Keep your hands at your sides
She said that death was a natural flirt
At this carnival there are no free rides
Things that remain rot in the compost heap
Press the button to make them cramp
The old friends start to weep
Mail these tears without a stamp
So they cant be returned to their owner
The real war is fought without guns
Now all we need is a blood doner
New blood in my veins run
We will not give into this
Angels take what they left behind in the dust
The names of the dead grow longer on a list
Your enemy is the one you trust