He woke up into a world that was not the same as when he left He woke up to the walking, the walking dead
When will he find A little peace of mind, Collect his thoughts And show His light to the world? All the knowledge he holds 'Til then he tells himself, "This is not my home!"
How many times does he have to break to get answers? He's got all the right questions But with no direction, he's in all but closure Living life in a world devoid of composure All of the simple things in life get taken away Where does he turn to now When every aspect of consciousness has faded away?
Is there no one? His reality has broken away Is there no one? A withered body, mind, but a hopeful soul
Tossing and turning Yet he finds no peace All they do is kill kill kill! And all he can do is run from hell!
He strives to find hope not from this world No more waiting around for his call And he'll bite the bullet He cries aloud "I know this place like my own, But this is not my home. This is not my Home!"Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
