Black light pours from the abysses

Of the white planes

Appropriate symbols of totemic power

Are spreading through the fabric

Of houses

Sailing through the titles of morning slander

In the search for meaning, bare speculations are born

We are so good at controlling that split reality

Rolling it on fingertips

Your Babylon

Is nothing

Compared to our thirst for

Separation

Verily

Language is a disease

It spreads a web of excitement

Of (the) imperious crowd

Verily

Language is a tyrant

The apologist of putrid dogmas

Through the static hum

Semantic satiation

The destruction of classes

The loss of the implication

The fall of all logical connections

General chaos

General chaos

Your Babylon

Is nothing

Compared to our thirst for

Separation

Verily

Language is a poison

Artificially created

In laboratories

The toxic mutagen

That is infiltrated

At all possible levels

Of meaning

Language is a weapon, language is a weapon

Language is a weapon, and it's in my hands!

Language is a weapon, and it's in my hands!