Оригинален текст
Wars never cease to insult yet amaze
The ability of the butcher
To win the favor of the cattle
The great unwashed dig their graves
Into which they will gladly lie
So willing to fucking die
For those who owe their privilege
To the grinding of the poor
Month after month
Year after year
For those who owe their privilege
To the grinding of the poor
Fall on your sword
Blood tribute paid to this god, capital
Lives sacrificed to this Moloch of greed
For those who owe their privilege
To the grinding of the poor
Fall on your sword