Paroles de Fleurs de Mal

The demonic seed of European imperialists has swollen with ripeness Its blossoms signal moral decay, salivating to conquer A diseased concept of unalienable rights, a distorted view of sexuality A plague upon evolution Industrialists and aristocrats, rotting in your fancy suits Burning like cigars hung between weak lips choking beneath the smokestacks of progress Protectors and providers, teachers of self loathing, sentinels of the abattoirs, guardians of status quo May you choke on your own masochistic sermons and be ground beneath the heels of conformity My dearest comrades and young rebels, we're just more of the same Bourgeois shackles of pacifism and inaction enabling oppression We are accessories to slavery, bound together by invisible reins, pulsing through the veins The same tumultuous, glorious blood