The Brainwashed, songs скачать в хорошем качестве

The Brainwashed, songs

The Brainwashed They march ahead, the creatures’ creed, Disguised as kindness, pure deceit. Corrupting hearts, they sow the seed Of lies beneath deception’s sheet. A chosen few see through the haze, This shallow world, both cruel and grim. But scorn is heaped on those who gaze, For Satan reigns as idol dim. Yet veiled it lies in honeyed guise, A mix of nonsense, vile and grim. The devil’s rule grows bold, defies — Thus spreads fascism’s vicious hymn. Reject the lies, forge thoughts anew, Though stress may rise, stand firm, confess. By doing so, you’ll save the true And fragile soul of weightless press. Six grams they claim, by falsehoods bound, Yet Reason knows it holds the All. Forsake the crowd, its wailing sound — Find your own path, and heed the call. --------------------- The Endless Stream of Meaningless Decay The "truth" once clear has turned to haze, Reborn as nonsense in its ways. Delusions mocked, yet still they stay, Within our souls' chaotic fray. What’s the cause? It’s blind belief, A tool they wield to mask the thief. The bold few think, the rest obey, A shepherd leads the herd astray. What he declares, they call their creed, Oppose him? Punishment’s decreed. The daring few endure the pain, Unbowed, they rise against the chain. For sense they seek where lies are sown, And claim their reason as their own. Through toil they shape their minds anew, Though pointless work—it serves the few. Not for the herd this labor’s worth, But for the bold who prove their birth. Their joy is found in pages vast, Where kindred spirits meet at last. --------------------- Independent Search "Knowledge"—a force: For the dim, of course... For the wise, it’s seeking truth, Finding worth in this frail world’s course, If you face the Spirit’s proof. If the questions that you ponder Find their answers in your soul, Among the rare, the true, you’ll wander, Breaking free from blind control. But should "knowledge" lure your being— Deceit’s rubble waits ahead. With the fools you'll find agreeing, Trusting lies that beasts have spread. Science twisted, truth perverted, Media’s rot: a stinking sham. Use your mind, with spirit girded, And no one will call you damned. --------------------- The Lowest Ranks of Worldly Rule "In the prison's social hierarchy, established in the 1960s, there are four main casts ('ranks') among inmates: the thieves ('blacks'), the common men ('grays'), the collaborators ('reds'), and the outcasts ('blues')." — Valery Abramkin, "Prison Subculture" The crisis of "power"—a rank debased! Servants of beasts in fawning disgrace. They stir up passions in stinking airs, Fools believe in their empty snares. Orders come from depraved shadows' might, The gray cardinal stays out of sight. No jest remains, the world descends, A pit with no bottom, where reason ends. Here, sheep are led by goatish guides, To ruin’s cliff, where deceit resides. The talking heads on every screen Proclaim their lies in polished sheen. "Presidents," "ministers,"—titles grand, Yet emptier words one cannot withstand. The misty world sees but a few Who glimpse the rot beneath the view. Convince the fool? A hopeless cause— He trusts the lies, ignores the flaws. Soft they weave their deceitful thread, Only to snare with lies unsaid. --------------------- Endless Slavery Get to work, you fools, and hurry! Not the rats in suits or jury, Not the spies or schemers hollow, Not the media’s mad to follow— Work for crumbs and shaky shelters, “By God’s will!”—or so they tell us. Bow and break until you’re dying, Truth ignored, with fools complying. Never grasping all the LYING: To the rulers, sheep’s worth buying. Sheared and slaughtered, just like cattle, That’s all nations in this battle. Monsters rule us, servile masses, Politicians kiss their asses. Bribed or blackmailed—slimy dealings, Anger boils past all concealing. --------------------- SOCIALIST CAMP For some scraps and shelter grim, We’ve replaced our God with him. To the Party, all our cheers— Genius towering through the years! As for stinking dissidents, Blind to "glorious" events, Lock them up! It’s less a strain When we’re free of whiners' pain. Paradise on Earth we’ll make, If we give twice what we take. For now, behold our grand Camp’s fame— Its flag so soaked in blood and shame. ... ... Yes, the truth is drenched in gore, Not for progress, less for more. Communism feeds on killing, Its defeat? A wishful billing. Plans arise in beasts once more, Sheep will bow to evil’s roar. They’ll erect a mega-Camp— A crimson cross on white, blood-damped.