The sounds of silence echoing thoughout the hills,
ragdoll men lead onto that frightful slaughter.
A wounded look of surprise of a life cut short,
you'll never know the price paid for your comforts.

Steel in their hands, fear in their hearts,
the sounds of breaking bones under their feet.
Don't cross the line painted by a river of blood,
as leaded death spit upon out, and they all fall down.

The men that fear not the gods are the ones in saftey,
never know a day where mortality can be cut short.
Let them take advantage of a bar that they never raised,
and tread over the broken dreams of a grateful nation.

03/11/2003

Posted on 03/12/2003
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