歌曲 | The Forfeit |
歌手 | After the Burial |
专辑 | Forging a Future Self |
下载 | Image LRC TXT |
Every time your lips spill their poisonous words, they infect the ones you claimed to have cared for. | |
We are gored by your serrated ways. | |
We shed our faith, we’ve bled oceans for your cause. | |
We shed our faith in your atrocity. | |
We’ve come to claim a thousand lives to live. | |
Open hands will shape what little time we have. | |
We exude our servitude to a lifetime of deceptive worship. | |
Righteous hands will rise, if only to redeem the city of the gods. | |
And in ourselves we trust. | |
A thousand fists will rain. | |
This mighty downpour will wash away. | |
There is new hope in every open eye. | |
Promise to ourselves that these words will never die. | |
We exude our servant hood to a lifetime of immoral worship. | |
Righteous hands will rise, if only to redeem the souls of the meek. | |
Burn your spores so your plague will not manifest in the hearts of the innocent. | |
And when the blackest day becomes forever grey, the ash will scatter of what has not remained. | |
The ashes have buried you. |
Every time your lips spill their poisonous words, they infect the ones you claimed to have cared for. | |
We are gored by your serrated ways. | |
We shed our faith, we' ve bled oceans for your cause. | |
We shed our faith in your atrocity. | |
We' ve come to claim a thousand lives to live. | |
Open hands will shape what little time we have. | |
We exude our servitude to a lifetime of deceptive worship. | |
Righteous hands will rise, if only to redeem the city of the gods. | |
And in ourselves we trust. | |
A thousand fists will rain. | |
This mighty downpour will wash away. | |
There is new hope in every open eye. | |
Promise to ourselves that these words will never die. | |
We exude our servant hood to a lifetime of immoral worship. | |
Righteous hands will rise, if only to redeem the souls of the meek. | |
Burn your spores so your plague will not manifest in the hearts of the innocent. | |
And when the blackest day becomes forever grey, the ash will scatter of what has not remained. | |
The ashes have buried you. |
Every time your lips spill their poisonous words, they infect the ones you claimed to have cared for. | |
We are gored by your serrated ways. | |
We shed our faith, we' ve bled oceans for your cause. | |
We shed our faith in your atrocity. | |
We' ve come to claim a thousand lives to live. | |
Open hands will shape what little time we have. | |
We exude our servitude to a lifetime of deceptive worship. | |
Righteous hands will rise, if only to redeem the city of the gods. | |
And in ourselves we trust. | |
A thousand fists will rain. | |
This mighty downpour will wash away. | |
There is new hope in every open eye. | |
Promise to ourselves that these words will never die. | |
We exude our servant hood to a lifetime of immoral worship. | |
Righteous hands will rise, if only to redeem the souls of the meek. | |
Burn your spores so your plague will not manifest in the hearts of the innocent. | |
And when the blackest day becomes forever grey, the ash will scatter of what has not remained. | |
The ashes have buried you. |