Fields of overrun earth Limbs that dance devoid of trunk Women sunk in mourning Your gift to our species
We have mourned so many deaths caused by your greed for gold Yet still nothing compares to your holy abstinence
Liberation of all men is venom to your teaching I am no pity slave that you could spit on
Scorn consumes me while tasting your false truths Cripple is what I see when I look at you
Our tears – the bitter sea Trying to break the chains
The last link of our leash Will become your personal thornTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
