Murder!
I've seen the eyes of the
living dead.
It's the same old game: survival.
The great mass play a
waiting game.
Embalmed, crippled, dying in fear of
pain.
All sense
of freedom gone.
Black sun in a white world.
Like having a black son in a white
world.
I have a son,
His name is Eden.
It's his birthright,
Beyond
estranged time.
Give me 69 years,
Another season in this hell.
It's
all sex and death as far as I can tell.
Like Prometheus we are
bound,
Chained to this rock of a brave new
world,
Our god forsaken lot.
And I feel that's all we've ever needed to
know,
Until worlds end and the seas run cold.
Give me 69
years,
Another season in this hell.
There is sex and death
In mother
nature's plans.
Like Prometheus we are bound,
Chained to this rock of
a brave new world,
Our god forsaken lot.
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