Текст песни
Spoons and knives clang so bold
Plates are silent. Truth’s untold
Whisks and ladles play the part
The cook is here to drink your blood
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
The cup is dreaming of your lips
Its handle trembles of your fingertips
Like other object in the morning tray
Will be quickly eaten or thrown away
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
Look at that that miserable vase
His throat is stuffed with the flowers
Locked in the drawer like your jewels
They have no soul. They are just tools
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
What are, what are men
They are just utensils
