Those roads and streets they cut.
|
They cut off circulation.
|
Just like chains around my wrists.
|
Yeah.
|
Pushing me in these same directions.
|
Caught in a maze of dull routine.
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A body in motion, a mind crippled in inertia.
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Looking for an avenue of escape.
|
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Begging for release, from these paths worn thin.
|
The feelings that I¡¯ve seen and done all this before.
|
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Rushing straight towards us all.
|
We feel the callings of our futures.
|
The push and full, the force of time continues ever forward.
|
Our hopes and dreams overcome.
|
Crumbled by forced reason.
|
Two tide of age and despair.
|
Dashing us against walls we¡¯ve erected.
|
Buried below the weight of our screams.
|
|
To live and die and lose the sense of.
|
What it is that makes us strong.
|
Is the single greatest crime.
|
Which we are all guilty of.
|
To let the fire in our hearts.
|
Wink out without slightest protest.
|
The sound of progress thundering in our ears.
|
|
To feel the wind across my face.
|
I¡¯ll tear these towers down.
|
And embrace the day.
|
|
Rushing straight towards us all.
|
We feel the calling of our futures.
|
The push and pull of time.
|
The force of time continues ever forward.
|
|
To live and die and lose the sense of.
|
What it is that makes us strong.
|
Is the single greatest crime.
|
Which we are all guilty of.
|
To let the fire in our hearts.
|
Wink out without slightest protest.
|
The sound of progress thundering in our ears.
|
|
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|
Seige Equipment For Spiritual Decline
|
If Hope Dies |