Schlachthaus Der Gedanten - Ad Hominem

Distorted lines of freedom

Where the mediocre man prevails

Absolute flattery of equality

Like the procession of the hearse

Slowly leading the lamenting mob

To the burial of existence

Industrie des fleisches

Schlachthaus der Gedanken

No more traces of reality

It fears, it cries, it hopes, it loves

That little sphere filled with fragile life

Already crawling into death row

Industrie des fleisches

Schlachthaus der Gedanken

When followers drown into non-self

Irradiated by constriction of mind

A grandiose self arises to stand and refuse

The innocence of his peers mangles his deep ego

Cracking like whips on flesh

Altering his senses until all humanity is gone

Perceptions are swirling — visions darkened

And as lucidity vanishes — anger is soon in control

This outburst of violence — pure and devoid of reason

Takes hold of a new reality

He reigns

They fall