Taken out the ghetto blasters when what’s keeping us down is on guard
When we live under these beautiful stars, how can life be this hard?
Lying there dying in the courtyard of music and dreams
Brutal mutations through the thrust of time, wondering when they are going to die
When something is going meaningful, you see everyone with beautiful cars, wasting away In raggedy bars wondering when the dark rain will begin to disperse
We can hold our hands and find what is love
Believe,
I’m not religious but sometimes I feel what’s going above
Because when I die, will become a bug, a ghost living in the abyss, or nothing…
Warmonger 