Be something that amounts to nothing the threat.
|
A wrecking-ball plowing through our karma.
|
We have no confident voice in our ears for tonight.
|
Exist in memory only, headline...
|
|
We have been through change,
|
by the season of the storms.
|
In tyranny; the cleansing.
|
Except eccentric faith, to need religion;
|
to sit high, among the elect.
|
|
On march the saints.
|
|
There's no such thing as a good time for bad luck.
|
As minutes turn to distressed fragmented moments.
|
Reading lips unable to hear the talk,
|
partake; no chance you're allowed in tomorrow...
|
|
We have seen the change.
|
From the season of the storms,
|
in tyranny; the cleansing.
|
With all our lives at stake; for the rest to prison,
|
are sitting high among the elect.
|
|
On march the saints
|
March
|
|
-----------------
|
On March The Saints
|
| Down |
