Слова:
Pro Pain Round Six

Forced into black - and this is all we know Acquired taste to kill ourselves For demon seeds to grow Accept the fact - we're not the same No right or

of us all is a need or a call To adjust and release You bury the past and you know it will last But it kills you just like a disease Cope with the pain

There are no words that one can say To justify oneself of existing conditions today The race is on and yet the stakes are fucking high So we gather

Enter the zone - our mission: Achieving the goal We act alone - for reasons beyond our control Under the gun - our power of reason prevails Second

Hands are tied - the scene is set To take advantage of the meek As sacrificial lambs are killed The blood will run into the street Mass migration

Despite all the pain that we've been through, my friend We search for a sign to guide us till the end Believe in yourself - Do what you think is right

, next round, another four left Status is me on defense, I guess that's just my sequence Quick shift by, and four gas V.I.P. Six feet to R.I.P., rollin