Delo Truda все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

our whole lives have been spent awaiting the earthquake, shake the chains o so that we can build a brand new conciousness
but the aftershock leaves us convulsing, and writhing,
barely hanging on all of the obligations a futile slap in the face of freedom
all of the hearts that once beat for us
beat no more
and all of our wounds that once bled bleed no more
and all of the sickness, and nausea, the anguish and pain
collateral damage, from the struggle with self-hate

when we play their games we’re lost in her arms / blasted demons, burning the haven /now we sing songs that weave tales of desperation / hard to show sympathy in the face of a write off /

it can’t be so tough, it’s so tough to get everyone right with one checkmark / otherwise they will shoot you down and mutilate an angel / so that true horns and crimson eyes can get their next contract

this can’t be life, we can’t be living / this can’t be life, hearts can’t be beating / we weren’t meant to hate one another over the course of a conversation

now nothing rots but everything decays into one hedonistic dream / a dream that killed kings and turned the queen into a whore

the hollow voices resonate
sending trains of thought racing through my head
steel wheel screech on rusted rails
cars fall into crashing waves
...and im screaming out under the surface of a tranquil sea

the cold shoulders and brush offs
the hospital beds and endless oceans

searching for a way to show you how i feel
i spot an opportunity, i step forward
you told me i stepped too far
acting without heed to privilege and power
paint me with the same brush as so many before
disregard how i feel and the pedestal you say i'm on

a glance into your core shows insecurities

we all live by the money code
we pull the yoke
it breaks our bones
we used to be all
idealists, but now we kneel at the altar of the american dream
the burden on our shoulders, a reminder of pacts made with devils in pinstriped armour with the precision of a surgeon
scalpels gliding through the wreckage we rationalize selfdestruction on the way to the vault

the acts, the theatrics of grandstanding patriotism
a surrogate for discourse
arrows tipped with invective, a surrogate for discourse
fighting to be the standard bearer, falling over one
another
all your misguided sanction, pretext to place your foot squarely on the throat of the masses
your whole narrative around freedom means nothing if its selective
cause freedom means more than can fit in a soundbite