(Kilfelt)
|
Misunderstood by all but a few
|
You hope to overcome the demons chasing you
|
Tempted to give in and weary from the chase
|
The conflict in your soul shows in lines on your face
|
Telling of a tale that only you believe
|
To others who in pity watch
|
But soon will rum their hacks and leave
|
To many there's no hope
|
Except survive against the cruel World
|
Disown the cause of all the problems
|
They're your children soon forgotten
|
Reminded of the things
|
That no one likes to think about
|
By poor, downtrodden people
|
Living in discarded waste
|
Go home to barred and shuttered windows
|
Keep the thieves and beggars out
|
Tl11pped by fear inside a fortress
|
Built by your own hands of hate
|
Nothing for those outside the circle of society
|
So lock the door and cock the rifle
|
Sitting, waiting, patiently
|
Looking for a moving target
|
In this wind blown no man's land
|
That once was home to all your children
|
Who left escaping prison's hars
|
They now are part of those outside
|
And hated from behind closed doors
|
The parents who once loved them
|
Care not if they see the cause
|
Won't admit that they are still alive
|
Life seems hopeless is it just us? (justice)
|
|
-----------------
|
Mind Wars
|
Holy Terror |