This is a broadcast
On disgust for thought, destroyed by

Nails through
A black tongue
Defy
Hollowed
Alone in
Your quest
For reason
For these when

Now to feed old bone
Mash to an ardent young herd
Who stand on the brink
Of where you die alone

Nails through
A black tongue
Defy
Hollowed
Alone in
Your quest
For reason
Because we
We want you
To know we don't know
We want you to die slow
We want you
To know we don’t know
We want you to die slow