Слова:
Thought Riot Sketches Of Undying Will

till this very day. And now we've suffered all the years; Travelled separate paths, with future goals unclear So far from where we thought we'd be

An angered lick of flame, Amongst dying embers remains Stalwart in its unwillingness to fade Poetic in its grace, A lilac wreathed in pain, Oh,

has made you... Made you grand! I will not follow, I'll find my own, you point the way! You point the way! I will not follow, the path is my own, you

Hands up! Black listed, discarded in ignorance, But our wings grow stronger everyday And so do our hearts with every hope. Tempered with compassion

Box cutter paranoia, Leads to meatpacking freedom, Nice and clean. Selling out our civil liberties In exchange for illusion, deception. No peace!

cycle of the streets work out its rage. Cover your eyes before the final bow is exercised. There's no ovation at the end, Just a haunting sensation, That soon it will