Homo Iratus

King Of Logic

Homo Iratus


Without sight and hearing 
Only with the sence of touch 
Illusory affection they sought 
Far away from truth's lucid eye 
A cold hand of help 
Morbid state of habit 
A matter of principle 
Can you refuse? 
Who the fuck are you? 
King of logic 
In the land of the damned 
Obsessed with the dream 
Of life after death... 
...and hope 

King of logic 
In the land of the damned 
Obsessed with the dream 
Of life after death... 
...and hope 
For some quality time 
Residing in concrete cells 
Who are we to judge? 
Who are you to question?