Killing

Birds are circling above
They're called back to a waiting glove, oh
Why don't they fly away?
Surely they'd have guessed by now
There is no gun to shoot them down, and
Still, they stay for what they say

Are they killing them with lies?
Are they fighting for their lives?
Killing them with thoughts?
Can they never get enough?
Killing them, are we killing?
Killing every single feeling?
It's a trained response

Birds are circling above
They're called back to a waiting glove, ehis
Sordid game, it bears my name
I have worshiped some false gods
I've run to them like Pavlov's dogs to
Hide my shame and fan the flame

Are they killing them with lies?
Are they fighting for their lives?
Killing them with thoughts?
Can they never get enough?
Killing them, are we killing?
Killing every single feeling?
It's a trained response

We're all preset
To reset to

Die
To die
We're all preset to reset to die
We're all preset to reset to die

Somebody told me once
"Beat them till they start to get used to it"
Next thing, they're lining up

Are we killing it?
Are we killing it?
Are we killing it?
Are we killing it?
Are we killing it?
Are we killing it?
Are we killing it?
Are we killing?