Birthmarks and Battlescars, inherited hatred, an enemy an anger, forged from the fears of your father, and the stories that he'd tell you, in the darkness of your bedroom, from the doorway silouhetted, like a saint soon to be martyred- The moon above, holds no grudge, with the sun that steals the morning, as the world sleeps, tides rise and reap, their retribution without warning- Handshakes and hallowed ground, the history of hunger, swords drawn our heros drown, as their demons drag them under, and the lies your teachers told you, in the comfort of the classroom, crucified for asking questions, I hope you learned your fucking lesson
Гуру Песен