Stalins War This Lost Town Of Wandering Souls
A death shrouding cold encapsulates the lungs; each
breath,
Without a warning, could be the last. When it reaches
nearer
will we stand as true in hollow convictions we thought
we knew?
Give me peace. Give me direction. Play that chord for
me one
more time. Give me the strength to seek compassion.
Play that
chord for me one more time. Look to the sky and see
millions of
stars contrasting black, a humble whisper on an endless
stage. False
caresses and empty gazes some light shines out; through
the haze you'll see.
Connect the stars; they all come back to me.
Desperation has now killed this hope
with weary eyes and criticized the good and
manufactured hate. With bloody
fingertips I write this song. Guilty of all; I won't
deny. Guilty of all; I won't
deny. We've banked our lives in such a way to fill the
void, the constant pain.
We've loved and lost; we've played the game. I thought
I knew the answers, then
everything just changed. This cliché of glamour still
lies within my mind. Nights
walking alone through this dreary town, all beauty lost
in the apathy of the
eyes of the desperate and addicted, in this lost town
of wandering souls
