Hydra (Live At Rain City) - Bonus Track
Death's breath on the back of our neck.
The bitter taste of blood, flowing in floods.
Consuming all the rations, neglect is a crime of passion.
I don't believe we've earned our keep or
deserve this peace, self centered catastrophes.
Armies of fools will fall. Nights of no end. Writing on the wall.
War is now the will of your God. The prophets hands are stained.
War is now the will of your God. Heads Will Hang.
All hail the antiheroes.
Life reduced to ones and zeros.
Expand and expire. Voices of reason retire.
The threat is real,
when you can feel the pain they feel. The writing's on the wall.
War is now the will of your God. The prophets hands are stained.
War is now the will of your God. Heads Will Hang.
Soul Seller. Fortune Teller. Plague Bearer.
The fog won't lift.
These comforts are counterfeit.
The kings of shame stretch the divide.
The pieces never fit.
First world counterfeits. The great collapse now justified.
Peace is merely a gift for the privileged, safeguarded from the pain.
This indifference is paid in blood. All hands our stained.
The grip of oppression tightens the noose,
but when they kick out the chair, heads will hang.
War is now the will of your God.
The bitter taste of blood, flowing in floods.
Consuming all the rations, neglect is a crime of passion.
I don't believe we've earned our keep or
deserve this peace, self centered catastrophes.
Armies of fools will fall. Nights of no end. Writing on the wall.
War is now the will of your God. The prophets hands are stained.
War is now the will of your God. Heads Will Hang.
All hail the antiheroes.
Life reduced to ones and zeros.
Expand and expire. Voices of reason retire.
The threat is real,
when you can feel the pain they feel. The writing's on the wall.
War is now the will of your God. The prophets hands are stained.
War is now the will of your God. Heads Will Hang.
Soul Seller. Fortune Teller. Plague Bearer.
The fog won't lift.
These comforts are counterfeit.
The kings of shame stretch the divide.
The pieces never fit.
First world counterfeits. The great collapse now justified.
Peace is merely a gift for the privileged, safeguarded from the pain.
This indifference is paid in blood. All hands our stained.
The grip of oppression tightens the noose,
but when they kick out the chair, heads will hang.
War is now the will of your God.
Credits
Writer(s): William Scott Putney
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.