|
Like blood torn from bones |
|
You only get what you earn |
|
When Hyenas walk the night |
|
we call that civilized |
|
like raw anger shorn with hate |
|
and racial memories remain |
|
we're freed from fear |
|
and bellies full |
|
something still gnaws away |
|
like sullen wolves with fire inside |
|
something melts away |
|
and blisters never born in pores |
|
but fester till they break |
|
tell me what we gave away |
|
but never lie inside |
|
We smell the flesh that burns away |
|
but never feel the fire |
|
In this Jungle I call home |
|
In this Jungle so alone |
|
What remains is what escapes |
|
Some masquerade as prey |
|
In this Jungle I call home |
|
In this Jungle so alone |
|
What remains is what we take |
|
and what's not taken's owed |
|
like patrons of the plague |
|
we'll march so solemn sworn |
|
protect our land protect our place |
|
we'll never feel the warmth |
|
like lemmings to the sea |
|
we'll drink the wine as blood |
|
pray another hungry soul |
|
Will still escape the flood |
