Bring Out Your Dead

You see this world as your own
You think this life is yours
I've come to break you down
You're a commodity
This flesh is not your own
Your blood is currency
The beast has drawn your number
Stand straight, fall in line

All of your prayers won't be heard anymore
Your blood has been programmed to baptize the floor
And your grave is just a hole in this
Cold dead ground

This world has died around you
A fucking worthless cause
The eulogy is written
The casket is burning
Begin the funeral march
Bend on your broken knees
They've drawn your fucking number
Stand still, taste the pain

All of your prayers won't be heard anymore
Your blood has been programmed to baptize the floor
And your grave is just a hole
In this hell

They've got your fucking number
I've got your fucking number
They got your fucking number
You're bleeding like the others

You're screaming, they're calling, you're bleeding
You're bleeding, you're hearing the calling

Bring out your dead



Credits
Writer(s): Andrew James Hart, Joel A Johnson, Karl Andrew Hensel, Charles Allen Johnson, Tara Johnson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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