Day of the Dead

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They planted a seed
We hoped it  will never grow
But hate is a weed
And fear is a perfect soil

So it grew well, watered with lies
With anger and rage, it was fertilized

This is the day of the dead, and the fruits have been eaten
This is the day of the dead, and you are about to be bitten

This is the day of the dead, and the fruits have been eaten
All that didn't die yet are about to be bitten
Eaten by vines, entangled in plans
Like cannon fodder of the warmonger

Their deaths won't be glorified
Their names will be forgotten
Souls are already lost
Like the flesh, that is already rotten

There is a price for human lives
Measured in dimes
By an evil device
That produces lies
For meaningless goals
And incorporates men in meaningless roles 

This is the day of the dead, and the fruits have been eaten
All that didn't die yet are about to be bitten
Eaten by vines, entangled in plans
Like cannon fodder of the warmonger

This is the day of the dead, and the fruits have been eaten
This is the day of the dead, and you are about to be bitten

This is the day of the dead

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