|
We are the underground |
|
They know nothing of our sound. |
|
We are the underground |
|
They know nothing of our sound. |
|
This one's for the pigs at the top |
|
You know nothing of us |
|
You know nothing of us |
|
We're in the gutter singing |
|
We wont give up |
|
With our fingers crossed |
|
Baptised in blood. |
|
Sick of watching with our mouths sewn shut. |
|
Raise the flag, sound alarms. |
|
Look at the state of me, you, us. |
|
(BRAINWASHED) |
|
Are you skeptic? |
|
Born and bred, negative? |
|
Are you dead set suffering? |
|
Giving up? |
|
Are you spoon fed? |
|
Coughing up the ignorance? |
|
Are you brain dead? |
|
Loathing, pulling at teeth? |
|
Kill or cure. |
|
This is new world torture. |
|
Kill or cure. |
|
This is new world torture. |
|
If we have to kill the living to live |
|
Prescribe plague and clean our slates with disease |
|
(We wont follow) |
|
They'll lead us straight to the grave. |
|
(There's no sorrow) |
|
Convinced the answer's in the dust and debris. |
|
This is new world torture. |
|
We're fighting fighting with fighting |
|
Our unity is divided. |
|
This is the system declining on us. |
|
Put a nail in my coffin and light it up. |
|
Our condition is critical. |
|
We're fighting fighting with fighting |
|
Our unity is divided. |
|
This is the system declining on us. |
|
Put a nail in my coffin and light it up. |
|
Our condition is critical. |
|
If we have to kill the living to live |
|
Prescribe plague and clean our slates with disease |
|
(We wont follow) |
|
They'll lead us straight to the grave. |
|
(There's no sorrow) |
|
Convinced the answer's in the dust and debris. |
|
If we have to kill the living to live |
|
Prescribe plague and clean our slates with disease |
|
(We wont follow) |
|
They'll lead us straight to the grave. |
|
(There's no sorrow) |
|
Convinced the answer's in the dust and debris. |
|
Seamless as it was, |
|
Before the winter came. |
|
The trenches will shelter our young. |
|
While we ration, others save. |
|
We came paired for the worst |
|
Frantic, out of luck. |
|
Chosen by our tragedies, |
|
To make the best of us. |
|
To make the best of us. |
