Napalm Death - Section | Текст песни

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• Napalm Death
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Spit out the poison that plastic motive,
the soothing pain that feeds the hole.
A carnage path of one-time friends,
a stepping stone to personal ends.

A line that piles high,
an art of trend,
champagne delusions,
contorts and bends,
the seething mass
which consumes deceit,
the frozen glance.
Burn obsolete.

All we are
is one section,
struggling blindly
through deception.