Trash Talk. Trash Talk. The Hand That Feeds. Zeneszám

Struck down like dogs. You live on hand and knee and wait for nothing.
A tangled mass of flesh and teeth, bite back the hand that feeds.
The song remains the same: stillborn unto their pain.
Submission stretched from head to toe across your lifeless frame.
Kill or be killed.
Sin or be blessed.
Bite of the hand.
Taste of the flesh

(Thanks to Tyler for these lyrics)