Deprivation as a weapon
There is anger in the taste
As the walls come tumbling down
Clever hurting from your system
Keep your solitude at bay
Wear your face without a frown
CHORUS
Bleeding words in magazines
As the prophets tell their tales
Spiteful hearts and lifeless scenes
Across an empty stage
Haunting shadows in your footsteps
Breathing heavily as your run
Through the barricades you drive
A darkened figure makes you stumble
With a voice that hunts you down
Still, it makes you feel alive
CHORUS
CHORUS