Fallen Praetor

What does a megalomaniac who has it all Crave in his dreams / in his sleep How could he want more - than every thing? Does he dream of riches or is it of conquest The idea of taking it all In his name, for his greed As they pull the blindfold over our eyes We still hear them up in the skies Dropping fire to scrub the memory of you and me We are fed through the conveyer belts of their industry Like bullets, like cattle, helplessly witnessing our end As we watch them pave our lands Deforesting the place we called home Making roads for their vehicles To transport their economy of wastefulness Mechanizing Flattening me Wrought with disease Blanket of weeds Cracking grounds beneath our feet Laying pipe and circuitry Transforming our villages into mechanical digestive systems Mechanizing Flattening me Wrought with disease Blanket of weeds We are fed through the conveyer belts of their industry Like bullets, like cattle, helplessly witnessing our end