too much has been said about the end of time a million pointed fingers including mine but when the dusk falls to begin the august winter we all will have written a verse to the final gospel [2x]
so throw up your hands to your lord for the ability to see and yet not see what we cannot ignore now i feel there is no hope just a clock moving backwards ticking away our last chances moving so much faster i think were already dead! no matter whats been said! hell is now and now is hell and we will pay for all we did someone somewhere is laughing so had at how easily things can be taken so very hard and still we feed the fire of the coming storm that is human extermination taking form from deep inside my bones i feel anticipation burning and when i put my ear to the floor i hear revolution and yet i'm ashamed at the simplicity of humanity and its mentality and how easy this society can be shaped and molded into formless mindless clay
too much has been said about the end of time a million pointed fingers including mine but when the dusk falls to begin the august winter we all will have written a verse to the final gospel
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Copy to Clipboard: too much has been said about the end of time a million pointed fingers including mine but when the dusk falls to begin the august winter we all will have written a verse to the final gospel [2x]
so throw up your hands to your lord for the ability to see and yet not see what we cannot ignore now i feel there is no hope just a clock moving backwards ticking away our last chances moving so much faster i think were already dead! no matter whats been said! hell is now and now is hell and we will pay for all we did someone somewhere is laughing so had at how easily things can be taken so very hard and still we feed the fire of the coming storm that is human extermination taking form from deep inside my bones i feel anticipation burning and when i put my ear to the floor i hear revolution and yet i'm ashamed at the simplicity of humanity and its mentality and how easy this society can be shaped and molded into formless mindless clay
too much has been said about the end of time a million pointed fingers including mine but when the dusk falls to begin the august winter we all will have written a verse to the final gospel
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