Lyrics: Ben
Music: Ben
Arranger: Ben
Enter the room,
there are thousands of fools
waiting for boon, inevitable doom.
Patriots hiding their temporal thoughts,
swiping their phones,
spouting hatred on Twitter
inordinate passion for saving the world,
while kids and mothers waiting for breakfast,
obscuring this hunger for supreme power—
who can tell what this gentleman's got underneath?
Patriots, please listen:
sullied reputation,
who is absent?
Of course, it's their integrity.
Civilization's already broken like your senses.
Restricted and limited—
is what we're reduced to.
Months ago, I met him, oh an anchor,
his private life, never mind,
wonder how many penises were in his hole.
However, the closet was made of lonsdaleite,
no way, he cannot get out of here:
being handsome on TV,
but inside a whore.
Patriots, please be more open-minded.
After your death,
there's nothing left.
Hold the only weapon you possessed: your human sense.
Ruffle up, stop hiding your invincible humanity
They polish their flags with their tarnished brain,
melody fades away，orthodox reign supreme
Stuff their lies in their bruised up belly,
sew the mouth shut, so the truth can’t tell me
God if this is a cult, please tell me
to wreck the kids while the world is ending，
But let me crack the glass, let the sun in,
the mind's empty, and the king has no skin.
Patriots, please be more open-minded.
After your death,
there's nothing left.
Hold the only weapon you possessed: your human sense.
Ruffle up, stop hiding your invincible humanity