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Cold in my land |
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Whate'er the time I've been |
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Running too fast or walking too slow |
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For a long time. |
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Tomorrow I will hate |
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and celebrate my greed |
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Wandering the Waste |
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And tasting my heart |
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Smells like sour and filth. |
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Tears don't belong to me |
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And no one else, |
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I'm running to my hell |
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'Cause none of us can make a stand. |
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Running to my hell... |
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Cold rain, rush me into my hell, |
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All alone when light's off. |
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We are born to procreate |
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And subjugate. |
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Tears don't belong to me |
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And no one else, |
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I'm running to my hell |
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'Cause none of us can make a stand. |
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Running to my hell... |
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Cold Waste of a bloody |
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Taste we're alone |
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And ready to fall. |
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Frontiers without volunteers. |
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Who asked for a penny of love? |
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Skyscrapers with a hellish view from above. |
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We're ready to fall. |
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Cold Soul, if you're feeling old you can call |
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When you can't go on... |
