Contagion

(álbum: Machines Of Our Disgrace - 2016)

"Well I say, the less we have to do with fancy things we don't need, the better."
(Contagion)
(Contagion, contagion, contagion, contagion)

Has nobody noticed our infection?
This slow and willing genocide?
Terminal sickness spreads
Through thoughts inside our heads
Our consciences under the knife

Willing transmission of disease
Worship new deities
Contagion

We've all succumbed to misdirection
Lost in the concerns of our own lives
Sedated willingly
By our technology
Ignorant bliss until we die

Willing transmission of disease
Worship new deities
Contagion

"We don't have to buy anything they make, do we?"
"Well I say, the less we have to do with fancy things we don't need, the better."

(Contagion)
(Contagion)

Have we been sick since our inception?
Doomed to our own willing suicide?
And as we watch it spread
The living become dead
But never stop to question why

Contagion!
Contagion!
(Contagion, contagion, contagion)
Sickness in disguise
Our contagion!
Open up our eyes
Our contagion!