Through the mouth of a nation’s harlots The traitors with endless lies falling behind A distorted tongue, the origin of spiritual fall
A mouthful of poisoned ideals All spat into face of these men Still scarred for nothing, still bleeding in vein Singing tunes for this dying age
Bow in front of the upcoming death Bow for the sons of tomorrow
Only a scar for some, still a mark for an other At the edge of an era, where the martyrs gather Only flesh for the leaders, marching towards another An age of redemption or an age for revenge?
Wrapped into the hopeless cross, the one that most of them bear The voice of oblivion, screaming for the deaf ears
Bow in front of the upcoming death Bow for the sons of tomorrowTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
