Casketgarden The Great Abductor
I have to bear my Monday morning cross like a yoke
towers its burden
As I'd trail an engine and the machinist with the
sulphur-breath laughter
He's whipping me into the opposite direction
He's whipping me but I would tend to you
But I want tend to...you
They nail my mistakes on me and I make them part of the
system
I wear them as my crown of thorns, attach them, archive
them
Repeating my mistakes like a stuck turntable
Following the leader this is the task
It seems to me the tyrant-masks are more transparent
It seems to me they're not disturbing in the mass
Honor and morality
For them do not mean anything,
Are easy to annihilate as a tag
I hope these railways will erode,
I feel the machine clogging
it grinds the grain harder more and more
Behind me on wagons
More thousand Monday morning Jesuses follow in
screaming
They want to lead, they want to crawl
Till their nails splinter in blood, till the coal chews
their bone...
Till the coal chews their bone
They're whipping me into the opposite direction
They're whipping me and I will tend to you
Always slower I drag the gear,
Sinking under the weight I trail
...But I crawl to you
Till the coal chews my bone
