1. |
Black Lungs, Dead Eyes
03:46
|
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|
With cobwebs between my fingers.
Black lungs and dead eyes.
I'm coughing up death, choking on life .
We are only pretending to cope
With this subverted state of mind
Going nowhere, always returning.
No changes, only routine,
To and fro, ebb and flow.
How can one grow, when fed mostly with hardships?
In a city reigned by downpours and indoctrination.
Unlearned to separate freewill and force.
Trapped in lethargy and held down by depression.
To this '84 system, my betrayal is certain.
My ribcage is no anvil, there's only so much I can take.
I abhor what you stand for,
Fuck what you stand for.
I won't be another cog in a dispiteous machine, no I won't.
Destined to function and eventually break.
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2. |
Intermission
01:25
|
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3. |
Widower
03:31
|
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|
I'd rather face the tidal waves
Than to live in these new times they praise.
I left these lands I used to call my home.
I am too scared of what it has become.
They made the factories grow and they swallowed my wife.
Then I lost my sons to a miner's life.
Three coffins and a cross, that is left for me.
As I say goodbye to my family.
Now I'm the oldest chap back on this fishing boat
And the breeze brings back memories from better times in my youth.
When I returned ashore to find my beloved ones in peace.
Before trees turned to chimneys and the clouds to smoke.
The endless sea, it calms me down.
I raise my cup with an endless frown.
To you that I've lost and the life we used to lead.
I'll never return, if it needs to be.
Cause three coffins and a cross, is all that's left for me.
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Beyond Hope Records Germany
Independent Record Label based in Europe!
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