Текст (слова) песни: Byzantine - The Filth Of Our Underlings
The filth of our underlings Shall never nourish me completely
Our knowledge is bending our brainwaves congealing Force feed the piety that humans are bleeding Silk purse from a sows ear is what I`m knitting Nourishing off the fat of our rendering
Hail to our underlings Our destinies embraced Surrender unto abysmal weight Hail to our underlings Toiling away Collapsing into a servile state
Mouth of komodo shall harbour our healing Poisons the serum as our sores are revealing Hang nerves out to dry to dampen the feeling Rendering for self-symbiotic feeding
Hail to our underlings Who knows not to fight Peel back the scabs to blind them all with light
The filth of our underlings Shall never nourish me completely
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