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Colors of such that our eyes were burnedAnd gold boughs from which to hang oneselfWe've got reasons like the seasons ringingWe've got weapons without nameMirthless though dressed up in comedyThe screen's glow is hiding the mammon beastIt's cauterized the senses that allowed us real lifeThe carrot is how we avert our eyesAnd in time we're willing to lick and to contriveSpending in digital atmosphereSmiling as we've learned to love the stickChoking back emotions into character armorThe wizened paw of Crom is a-hanging off his legHis ribs are sticking out like a leather birdcageHe's aged so many years in the past few daysOh Crom you're such a good dogEase this pressure, lay down weaker,gasp and shudder and never stand up againCannot feel them, cannot feed them, cannot hear them,as the dogs they bale and whineI am weak we are all weak, but I'm not as weak as you;with a dead dog in your armsWith a needle and its tip to suck the life and starve the dog,the boy is lying on the floor,Raise him colder to the sky. Aus Songtexte Mania