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Eight wheels lusting for the lives of infantry (His bearings shift) |
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His turrets turning from accountability (He takes his aim) "We sing our final song and soon this verse is over." |
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He makes advances till his wheels cease to roll. |
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His God is smiling on his cold mechanic soul. "His plot is perfect if it sees no contradiction." |
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There is no sign that he shows a sign of slowing. |
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You've stained your skin and |
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I won't stick around long enough to count the hearts that hit the ground. |
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So long ago...was |
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I one of them? |
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Your urgency hastened by his ingenuity |
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It's just a matter of moments til your body is debris "So say a prayer" "His plot is perfect if it sees no contradiction." |
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You've stained your skin and |
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I won't stick around long enough to count the hearts that hit the ground. |
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So long ago...was |
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I one of them? |
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And still he moves on arm and iron conquer heart and soul. and what of those in silent disconnect sundry souls akin in consequence begging for bliss beyond the pain |
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Relief is just a turret's fire away |
