In the yard of the old man
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The ruin's shimmering
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The world's painted pale
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The conditions are at stale
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Flocks gathered from far away
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Hiding, still overly aggressive
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Generations they will slay
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Not really regressive
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A dead end cave
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Home of the brave
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The world fools no one
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Grace me with hammering rest
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Keep an eye on the sea
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Imagine what we would be
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Rushing to the shores
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God of all damn wars
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Wrenched beyond recognition
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No such thing as human intuition
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Feel free to turn the supreme ignition
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-----------------
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Wrenched
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Zyklon |