This mark of impalement burned On my skin is immoral. The shackle of frailness confines one To crawl with one self. A smell of corrosion force Fully clashes within Sensorial conditions Human emmisions grown thin It's burned on your head It's burned on your skin
It's burned on your eyes A barcode never lies A symbol of power As dark as the night No measure for intolerance We'll keep up the fight This structure of violence Now becomes. Silence is hurtful Beginning our obsession we now Learned our lesson. Despite A world of dominance Will now pervade Clouds cover the sun The light begins to fade This toilsome aggression is Now getting harder to fight Solutions of leverage Internal combustion is tight
Composição: Bill Leeb / Rhys FulberColaboração e revisão:

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