Twelve Tribes - Midwest Pandemic lyrics

The dead are coming oh she said son And they'll k** again so take comfort in these words They can't take you from my arms Hell is waiting outside beyond these walls It won't save your soul to panic at this point Blessed are the lethargic For they are cursed to die for your cause When they come Hold tight to your father's gun And don't let it go You're going to need it when I'm gone And when I'm gone Don't stop shooting them They won't spare your heart for being a coward Blessed are the lethargic For they are cursed to die for your cause Pray for us sweet Mary, mother of God They keep on coming in swarms They keep on coming in swarms In the war between God & Man We are both in contempt But you won't remember this and I can't explain She said, "we're gonna make it.. We're gonna make it out We're gonna make it.. We're gonna make it out" I'm not convinced that they won't stay dead In the greatest of our despair The war is not lost And all your dreams are still on their way He said, "We're gonna make it out We're gonna make it out We're gonna make it out" And all your fears will come to pas As each shell tears you apart And all your angels will sing your praise To give you hope for what it's worth RUN