Cemetary 1213
"Union of the Rats"

It's always finder's keepers
This moves too slow
Down with the crawly creepers
What you borrow you owe

— Now here we go —

Set the pace, set the tone
The strangest thing you've ever known
Nothing left to die for.
Bitter seed, sour grapes
The point from where there's no escape
Nothing left to die for... no!

Undead & unfamiliar
They trim the fat
Unlocked & unpeculiar
We're the Union of the Rats

— We're the Union of the Rats —