We've been at the edge too many times, To ignore the warning signs Now that we're led by those who are blind, To the world that is outside They will ensure, that they'll make our lives, A misery before our eyes These power whores, are those who decide.. Which civil war goes on the side It's out of our hands. To a man we must fight or be overrun And by midnight, the first strike has begun.. Would they rather die..or live and suffer...this reign of thunder Nations in need, no longer have the right, to chose which war in which they fight.. Hatred and greed, and mad myopic sight Add to the Anarchists delight The poor will die whatever, in the ultimate defeat, We sell them arms But send them nothing they can eat.. Women and children, starved and alone.. They are like shadows painted on bare walls In spite of the land in their hands, the respite will fool no-one.. And by midnight there is light, but no sun Would they rather die, than live and suffer, through this reign of thunder Take it as read, that what's left behind, incriminates the ones inside And we are fed, all the same old lies, twisted thoughts of twisted minds It's out of our hands...
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