This song seemingly tackles the methods of deception those who manipulate others use to get victims to follow their demands, as well as diverting attention away from important issues. They'll also use it as a means to convince people to hate or kill others by pretending acts of terrorism were committed by the enemy when the acts themselves were done by the masters of control to promote discrimination and hate. It also reinforces the idea that these manipulative forces operate in various locations, infiltrating everyday life without detection, and propagate any and everywhere.
In general, it highlights the danger of hidden agendas, manipulation, and distraction, serving as a critique of those who exploit chaos and confusion to control and gain power, depicting a cautionary tale against falling into their traps. It encourages us to question the narratives presented to us and remain vigilant against manipulation in various parts of society.
The smoke becomes pretentious,
it's hideous.
It states the notion that words and failures are no more.
The creature's motives are obvious.
Despite the slaughter, each breath's more vibrant than the last.
I'm content here because I know Death's a dignitary and I will not meet him in bed.
The horses strain like inmates.
They're terrified, and with good reason.
For tonight we're solely skin and gore.
Now fangs are pistols and I'm in line.
But damn it, I will stack them in piles until I'm called.
They come and lick my neck but with a serpents tongue, but this pale villain is just a means and an end.
'Your porcelain pierces my fragile skin, is my taste divine? Savour this my wine.' I won't just wait for sickles to seize.
'This black horseman descends to his purpose. At last language holds its meaning here, opaque words become clear.'
Typewriter keys become our words, and shot of rifles.
The rhythm's monumental once more, because these adjectives are more than romantic.
Come, down some bourbon one more time so we can't feel the ending.
Drink up! My circulation's harsh.
I won't just wait.
it's hideous.
It states the notion that words and failures are no more.
The creature's motives are obvious.
Despite the slaughter, each breath's more vibrant than the last.
I'm content here because I know Death's a dignitary and I will not meet him in bed.
The horses strain like inmates.
They're terrified, and with good reason.
For tonight we're solely skin and gore.
Now fangs are pistols and I'm in line.
But damn it, I will stack them in piles until I'm called.
They come and lick my neck but with a serpents tongue, but this pale villain is just a means and an end.
'Your porcelain pierces my fragile skin, is my taste divine? Savour this my wine.' I won't just wait for sickles to seize.
'This black horseman descends to his purpose. At last language holds its meaning here, opaque words become clear.'
Typewriter keys become our words, and shot of rifles.
The rhythm's monumental once more, because these adjectives are more than romantic.
Come, down some bourbon one more time so we can't feel the ending.
Drink up! My circulation's harsh.
I won't just wait.
Lyrics submitted by al.young
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i love how it's an assumption of what happened to ambrose bierce. so creative...
"Good-bye — if you hear of my being stood up against a Mexican stone wall and shot to rags please know that I think that a pretty good way to depart this life. It beats old age, disease, or falling down the cellar stairs. To be a Gringo in Mexico — ah, that is euthanasia!"