Nettlethrone Aesthetics Of A Dead Art Lyrics

Martyrs lie in the graves of deceit
Scorned by hate, in pestilent defeat
Once proud puppets of hypocrisy
Spoiled bodies, laid down on their knees
Crimson dawns charged with a-bombs
Behind the walls men disguised in green
Slaughter of the innocence
For the profit of the vile

First bury a man, then a nation
Millions are expandable
Once found ethics of virtue
Lost in the faceless felony

They know, they lie, they die
In the name of god
They knew, they lied, they died
How would you pay their blood?

Warmongering for centuries
The aesthetics of a dead art
Bring it down, take what once ours The aesthetics of a dead art

Mark our words, raise your fists
Your tyranny ends here
Harnessed men stand their ground
This is how we'll bring you down

Years of crumbling mirth
Make them a distant memory
As they stretch down the strings
Pull them down, take their wings

Martyrs lie in the graves of deceit
Scorned by hate, in pestilent defeat
Once proud puppets of hypocrisy
Spoiled bodies, laid down on their knees

Mark our words, raise your fists
Your tyranny ends here
Harnessed men stand their ground
This is how we'll bring you down