Drain the lake Find the owner of the voice Zip in the bank And drop off across the noise Examine the hairline As archives in the strand You turn into
The other half is somewhere else. A play in the dark, Whines like dogs. I am restless, I am lost. Time freezes all. Flawless eyes. Your rope you
Open the car door slow Don't think you'll ever know my name Get all that you deserve, in this world Love more than you can know Have more than you
Holy Mother of the simple one, When you smile at me you bring me down, You betray your thoughts. All your prayers too low. Now out of debt, you speak
When you?re young you?re sleeping With the love you?re feeling Waking up to evening To the pulse you?re breathing Nothing left, just ember Only we remember
Pullin? back from the precipice Feel so small now, stars shine bright above Don?t know why Receive a better life for a song Can?t but try, other leads
Rain, come down, and fall forever Drain, the dirt, into the wasteland Pray, for sound, to quiet the howling Feel, no shame, too brave Feel, afraid, to
Bow not before his creation These mortals: "man" This act of insult Breeds our discontent He turned his back On our loyalty I will bring my insurrection
Yeah let's tear this mother fucker down Costumed clowns are fed their sound Produced and drowned By their own endorsements Every trend is commodified
Do they lie to you? Are their, are their fingers bloody? If you asked questions would you Feel the fool? Mass acceptance, feeds the Flame of propaganda
Too long on the throne, no resistance You try to own me, possess my mind Believing you can control my existence Indoctrination, brainwash by lies A nation
Into the ice age and the red numbers and the codes Now there's a canyon sized gap between the winners and the ones in the cold Into a new world on a clean
One Thou, the Risen One, Insurgent Mage Who shook the power of gods All that you've done, eternal rage It justifies unholy thoughts You fight alone
Resentful, I'm sure the feeling is mutual Power for those with the most capital Upper echelon not in touch at all Grabbing at straws, desperation What
(feat. Yulien Oviedo) Como de costumbree La pequena maquina de talento, el mejor boligrafo de la republica Esto se lla ma la union 2 Que hacen por un
En el estado de Chiapas, muy cerca de Guatemala, las masas de campesinos se han levantado en armas. El Subcomandante Marcos se llama aquel que les manda
