1. |
Buried Deep In My Hate
03:44
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buried deep in my hate
unmoved by the events of this world
a corpse hoping to be re awoken
sadness is greater than this
hollow my heart, memories cut like a knife
I was moved by the present and future
now clocks are an hour glass
wanting to escape from this nothingness
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2. |
No Room For Debate
04:29
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the building time is here, it’s rising from beneath
the scapegoating must end confront them in the streets
they prey upon frustration, they hide behind free speech
they call it fucking pride its genocide they teach
expose them for what they are
ignore them we will not
by all means necessary
the fascists will be stopped
no room for debate, smash their fucking face!
if there’s blood inside their veins than make their white skin red
one bullet is too kind for every fucking nazi bonehead
we’ll draw lines in the sand that they shall never cross
we’ll raise our fist in battle as they mourn their brothers lost
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3. |
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welcome to the penitentiary
this fortress is nothing more than hell
the tortured screams of anguish
come from the prisons they dwell
these are the voiceless victims
trapped within this disease upon mankind
this is a tool of class oppression
capitalism is the crime
may these torture institutions become a memory of the past
key holders locked inside as they turn from stone to ash
the prisoners shall be free from this resultless institution
abolition the only solution
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4. |
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we want to be beautiful like our sorrow
we want to be great like our crimes
try to learn to love our sorrow
vain attempt to love our lives
all that is great belongs to beauty
all that is “sacred” is a lie
we’ve come to raise a forest of pyres
a great and tragic social dusk
sorrow’s army of unknown children
hurled thunderbolts across the twilight
we laugh the fine red laughter of hatred
we laugh the fine blue laughter of love
we have died with stars in our eyes
because the stars are the friends of the dead
we want to be beautiful like our sorrow
we want to be great like our crimes
try to learn to love our sorrow
vain attempt to love our lives
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5. |
Entrapped
02:26
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your path is one of amusement
a premeditated act or a change of heart?
one can only believe you were false from the start
manipulative characteristics a trait for a backstabbing
provocative militant rhetoric a tool for entrapping
entrapment!
pathological perception of morality
hypocrisy at its worst
no tears shall be shed
when you’re riding in a hearse
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6. |
Gasping
02:35
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fighting to hold on
gasping for air
slipping away
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7. |
Dry Eyes Of Samsara
04:20
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these things are broken, beyond repair
dead weight on our backs in our hands
what could we know? thousand mile stare
apathy for if the final blow will land
dry eyes of samsara, we will not mourn
we have nothing, arms open, born into this dying world
torn asunder, this world must be
we can not we will not look back
what we have left can’t be called hope
but it’s ours and we steel our resolve
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