Killing

Birds are circling above They're called back to a waiting glove, oh Why don't they fly away? Surely they'd have guessed by now There is no gun to shoot them down, and Still, they stay for what they say Are they killing them with lies? Are they fighting for their lives? Killing them with thoughts? Can they never get enough? Killing them, are we killing? Killing every single feeling? It's a trained response Birds are circling above They're called back to a waiting glove, ehis Sordid game, it bears my name I have worshiped some false gods I've run to them like Pavlov's dogs to Hide my shame and fan the flame Are they killing them with lies? Are they fighting for their lives? Killing them with thoughts? Can they never get enough? Killing them, are we killing? Killing every single feeling? It's a trained response We're all preset To reset to Die To die We're all preset to reset to die We're all preset to reset to die Somebody told me once "Beat them till they start to get used to it" Next thing, they're lining up Are we killing it? Are we killing it? Are we killing it? Are we killing it? Are we killing it? Are we killing it? Are we killing it? Are we killing?