Songtext
Well I say the less we have to do with
Fancy things we don't need, the better
(Contagion)
Has nobody noticed our infection?
This slow and willing genocide
Terminal sickness spreads
Through thoughts inside our heads
Our consciousness under the knife
Willing transmission of disease (of disease)
Worship new deities
Contagion!
We've all succumbed to misdirection
Lost in the concerns of our own lives
Sedated willingly, by our technology
Ignorant bliss until we die!
Willing transmission of disease (of disease)
Worship new deities
Contagion!
We don't have to buy anything they make do we?
Well I say the less we have to do with
Fancy things we don't need, the better
(Contagion)
Have we been sick since our inception?
Doomed to our own willing suicide?
And as we watch it spread
The living become dead
But never stop to question why!
Contagion!
Contagion!
Sickness in disguise
A contagion! (Contagion)
Open up our eyes
A contagion! (Contagion...)
