All the sorrow yet to be felt, Lies in the hands of the manipulator. A giving hand unworthy of trust, How it hungers for the slaughter, To feed it's cattle with the fruit of ignorance.
"Go, my children, Preach my ways, So that all may be saved. Reform shall be denied, There is nowhere to hide..."
But "saved" is a rather subjective word, When all conceivable outcomes, Exist only as a platform to express one's belief.
In tears as I pray, In the looming shadow of a sculpture, Raised in the name of the bringer of sorrow, "Condemned", yet enthroned forevermore.
(While those for whom we grieve, Are but a number, each face obscured, For whom only a memory now remains...)
"Go, my children, Preach my ways, So that all may be saved. Reform shall be denied, There is nowhere to hide..."
In vain... Our attempts... To understand... Each other...
Pre-conceived... In times of peace... Preparing for the day... When it comes time to preach...
Rather than utilize tragedy, As a means to espouse personal belief... Rather than immortalize villianry, As a means of understanding insanity...
Look into my eyes (and hear my words)...
Block your mind from these streams of lies, These twisted truths shall meet their demise. Let us open our minds to the descending dawn, As the embodiment of fear is finally gone.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
