Alba s touto skladbou:
The Dystopia Journals,
No no, This face must go
It will not do, We require another you!
It will not fit, The place for which
You are intended, it must be mended.
That frown won't do, but we have a cure for you.
A certain remedy, for all those grave abnormaties.
We'll make you smile, as you walk the mile.
The cogwheels turn, the bridges burn
This cure will stick.
There are no ills, these pills won't fix.
When ill mouths speak, these pills will educate the weak.
Life has it's price, and yours aren't right.
Deviance will disintergrate, conformity facilitate
The clockwork of a healthy kind
Paint on a smile, step into line
You'd better learn, if not you'll burn
There are no ills, these pills won't fix.
When ill mouths speak, these pills will educate the weak.
Never stray, from the proper way.
Nod and obey.
Obedient souls survive the day.
Behold your only true messiah.
An entity of which you're a part.
A vast and cold indifferent being.
A grey clad mass without a heart.
Take your pills!
Cure your unmutual soul.
Purge your ills.
Accept your given role.
Take your pills!
Cure your unmutual soul.
Purge your ills.
Accept your given role.
Hush...
One for your brothers, and one for yourself.
Two for slight deviance, for rejection awaits seventeen grams of lead.
