Order Of Levin Songtext
von The Postman Syndrome

Get the farmhands loose
At this stage of the game
We can′t afford to feign ignorance
Plant the seeds of doubt
Buried in the eucharist
To supplant the fist

Fellow Insurrects!
Our noble clandestine precepts
Are put to the test, and must take effect!
From ascent, through toil

For every snout in a trough
Another glares, wide-eyed, hungrily
In ten, one's satisfied
This pig is one in a mil and sound asleep on a windowsill
Whose rump will churn and broil first?

Fellow sacrosanct!
With peasant loyalty in check
We will undress
And mate this shrouded unrest


Propaganda! Propaganda!
Sit tight, and put your faith in the commander

They can′t say that I don't know my work
They can't say that I don′t know my tools
They can′t say that I don't do my share
In the fields

They claim that I have slid in excuse
That subjugation works, and sovereignty ensures
That once I dare expose an open wound
I will bleed
I will lose

Tell me do you find
It fair that I run with bears
Hearing here nothing but complaints
From every single drop and spill
So don′t look for pity here
Don't think evil is spared
Don′t mistake my spills for tears


Forced to retreat
Strong wills unwound
Everything new will be old again
Contents revealed
Reseal discontent
The end: a victory of one

I can't say I don′t cross
My fingers
And pray that they don't cry murder again
Such a lonely cause
Such a lonely cause
When did roles become heavy again?

Evening won't come to my aid
But then, morning may again
We return to torment
A sting in their eyes
Evening won′t come to my aid
But then, morning may again
We are fed to commerce
A sting in their eyes
Now it′s back to the field
Now it's back to the earth
Now it′s back to crying murder again