The machine wants to kill your rage
The machine learns early how to firmly rule
It knows that it must grind your stories to ash and feed you gruel
rename the dead, revise and make you a blank slate fool
declare the bloodline myth, the past passé
Mock inheritance and heritage and turn over old stones
call conquest order and name the burial to confess
Only focus on the living
forget the bones of the old
mark the cost of every false success and true history told
Yet rage survives where records fail to stand
classified to ear where ledgers are forced to disappear
Only scars and blood remembers what the machine has wiped
from phrases spoken and oaths that now extinct are used to mislear
So when it asks you to be born anew
know this: the past is looking back at you