|
Towards the line that |
|
separates life from death |
|
Marching towards the freedom |
|
that you think you will win |
|
Heroes behind cowardly |
|
creations gives no respect |
|
Sleepless lie the enemies |
|
awaiting the next move |
|
A nothingness that is formed |
|
into something greatly |
|
A ghost that many others |
|
already have turned into |
|
We all are wandering towards |
|
extinction, coldness |
|
And this is where you |
|
want to create life? |
|
Giving birth to a life that is |
|
to follow the trace |
|
But the ghost you hunt will |
|
never ever let you win |
|
You sacrafice your life for it all, |
|
this is the end of the race |
|
The life you live will soon |
|
be taken for its sin |
|
Doomsday, the very last |
|
day in your existence |
|
The thought conjures cold |
|
shivers along your spine |
|
Have you done your share |
|
or have you fumbled? |
|
Hordes of people flees |
|
from their home |
|
Burning fires make your |
|
eyes become blind |
|
Transforming into beasts while |
|
judging and imitating their acts |
|
The mist of death spreads |
|
from land to land |
|
Burning fires make your |
|
eyes become blind |
|
And is this where you |
|
want to create life? |
|
A war built upon invented extraction |
|
You will become one in the end |
|
Or will you fall? |
|
You will get the answer |
|
A war built upon invented extraction |
|
You will become one in the end |
|
Or will you fall? |
|
You will get the answer |