Slow, cold blade. It runs down the center of your spine. Pleading hunch. That you're running out of time. Something's wrong. And your mouth's stitched up shut. Like waking up with your head against the gun.
Seems that the lead has got your tongue. Unspoken minds will speak with blood.
If you want change, you've got to change the source. We come to the killers for the cure. Only the dead have seen the end of war. For we come to the killers.
Why do you expect to feed from the hungry? A poor soul in debt will bleed. To get the rich blood flowing Your sweat is to drain you out. Your fear is to drive you. On a path that grows from tears. No drought where blood is shed on bones.
Imprisoned It needs no lock.s It needs no guards. It's not your vision. A high-jacked mind won't see the bars. It's your decision to accept all the things as they are. The hands of deliverance cannot save benighted hearts.
You're not meant to understand. You just stand under.
If you want change you've got to change the course. Welcome to the killers for the cure. Only the dead have seen the end of war. For we come to the killers.
What would you say if you weren't afraid? What would you say? What would you change? What would it take? Mold, regrow. We know we are the cure. Re-mold, regrow. We know -- we are the cure.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
