The fences, the wire, the dress code on the wall. The transfers, the searches, the bullshit they paint in the hall. And the walls that hold you in are just a million ashes waiting for release. We'll shake the gates of hell until you're free. The phone calls, the hearings: I hear the public defender's alright. The bailiffs, the judges: shareholders getting paid tonight. Just so many ashes waiting for release make up the walls of a prison cell. We're storming heaven, or we're raising hell.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
