Caught Amongst The Nets Of A Circus Show The Comfort Has Finally Ceased To Grow As Reason Screams Aloud At The Applause Of A Disfigured Crowd Now Spirit Begs To Grow Its Sound As Empty As The Abyss Below
Theories Uprooted From Existence Allow Your Dreams To Be Postponed An Immoral Code Where Theft Is The Essence Criminal If It Should Ever Be Condoned
Faking Life Until Flaws Become Weapons Much Valued At The Market Of Souls This Is A Trade Of Yet Unknown Dimensions A Matter Of Time Before They Learn Their Roles
Welcome The Sons Of The Afterbirth Injecting Falsehood Deep Into This Earth Running Like Orphans At The Warmth Of A Light Reaching Like Newborns At The Sight Of A Face Selling Their Diamonds For Others To Carve, Trading Their Pearls For Pork Chop Hurls. This Is A Trade Of Yet Unknown Dimensions A Matter Of Time Before They Learn Their Roles
Flattering Diversions Is All They Know The Core Of Their Work Is A Race To Drain Your Flow A Stagnating Vacuum Forbidding All Motion A Pretending And Dry Well Mocking The Ocean Three Swinging Hands Conducting A Nation A Sad Turn Of Events For Modern Civilization
Few Would Admit Their Hidden Love For Quicksand (But) Speak Of God And Salvation And Watch The Raising Hand Another Sunday Afternoon For This Mindless Crowd Applauding Fiercely At The Gloom Of A Broken Will
You Won't See Their Faces It Is A Shame To Be Proud It's One Cynical Board game Where Those Who Don't Play Pay The Bill Applauding Grimly At The Dread Of A Failed Ideal For Every Roll Of Dice Another Guilty Look Into The Eyes Of EvilTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
