Our Master Plays the Slave

Lots of troops laughing in the streets
With their broken chrome faces
And through the fenced roads
You hear your tears falling

Our master plays the slave
Of this land that is a wound
That opens every day
With pure death, every gram.
-violence is lying-

Formidable warriors in jeeps
The titans of virile order
What spoils do they expect to win?
If never a dog looks at the sky.

If it's necessary to bury your nose in the plate
We will do it, for the guys who smell like a tiger
So proud and ruthless
-violence is lying-.