The hue that fled our countenance Palor that takes its place, We greet him with glass eyes, Parted lips, Empty mouths The old king is dead The usurper ascendant Oh few are given to roaming For days at a time But his malice compels us To set our paths awry The old king is dead The usurper ascendant We greet him with glass eyes, With our tears Vitrified Acquiesce to his guiles His ridicule And the torment The old king is dead The usurper ascendant Oh am I not but a worm? Beneath the foot of my master Am I not just a link? In the chain of my fetters? Am I not just a grain? In the sea of your coffers? Won't I bare for you? The yoke of your only burden? This is not what we are One another This is not what I owe One another This is not what we owe To the future This is not what we owe To the past How could it be so?Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
