Written by Simon Meola
Simon Meola- guitar/vocals/bass
Cam Roydhouse- drums
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The fault lines are restless, so tired of these clowns
Listening intently to the lies on the ground
Man has hate, and seldom will listen to
Voices from strangers, aligned to the truth
I don’t wanna see such a fall
It’s just I can’t help but feel we are due
To right this wrong of broken exchanges
I’m not about to peter out and fade
I’m not about to peter out
This choice we’ve made to shamefully walk away
From all that we used to be
Don’t come without a price that we’ll have to pay
But I hope I’m wrong
The war machine rising, again with these clowns
Aggressively posted in tired worn out towns
Hired to kill, empathy’s beat out
Obeying the orders of men with no heart
They’re told that it’s for greater good
So blindly they’ll follow the men in suits
To death in the sand, ignorance made this
(But) I can imagine that the paradigm will change
And I can imagine that it will stay the same
Here come the armies again
Shaking their fists and they’re made out of men
The brainwashed up soldier is me
It’s him and it’s her, and it’s you can’t you see?
But you don’t want to see
Does it hurt you to see the responsibility is on me?
Take all of this pain and turn it around
Realize your chains were never locked down
The chains of your family, the chains of religion
The chains in your mind, you made it your prison
We’re made out of men, shaped in the clay
I hope to see you all again
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