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Monstrous machines mutilate men

It happens every fifty thousand years

Brother against brother. and mother against son

Its purpose has never been quite clear

T.V. Gurus propagate, conservatives annihilate

Rage boils from within

All must we obliterate, silence, kill, exterminate

The purpose of the game is to win

Mainstream monster media, the menace of modern mind

Shall propagate--then terminate

The hand of death, it touches me right between the eyes

You will learn to watch it burn

All warmth and love is gone to the lower echelon

Man's inhumanity to man

Slice the gut and slice the throat,

These words the leaders wrote

Will only lead us into the void

Now nothing looks the same from bloodshed, bombs and flames

It's all for progress' sake

Through out the blood and mud we trod, all in the name of God

Modern Crusade '86

Sickened by war and sin, the fate of Earth looks grim

Tension builds, then explodes

I am burning in the sun, gutters flow red with blood

I need a place to feel safe