Artista: Ulcerate
  Canción: To Fell Goliath

Lynch the god of disease 
And sever his wings 
Hang him upon the red beneath the green 

But the tyrants and sinners are waiting in line 
And the mob is thinning and there is no time 
With the blind masturbating the blind 
The prophets are left with no one to lead 

To fall on your sword 
Or charge from the trench 
Fall in to the black 
Or choke their fields with our dead 

Within the agony of the conscience 
To gorge at the trough or to starve to death 
Aversion of truths or affirmation of life 
History to live or history to end 

With the pinnacle past and crevice below 
To leave the concrete to crack and the steel to corrode 
Turn your back on this den of murderous thieves 
Or with stone in hand do we go for the head? 
A chance to cripple, cut them off at the knee 
A wrench in the works to fuck the machine