too much has been said about
the end of time
a million pointed fingers
including mine
but when the dusk falls to begin
the august winter we all will have written a verse
to the final gospel [2x]
so throw up your hands
and sing a praise to your lord
for the ability to see and yet not see what we cannot ignore
now i feel there is no hope
time's a clock that's moving backwards
ticking away our last chances moving so much faster
i think we're already dead!
no matter what's been said!
hell is now and now is hell
and we will pay for all we did
[x2]
someone somewhere is laughing so had at how easily things can be taken so very
hard and still we feed the fire of the coming storm that is human extermination
taking form
from deep inside my bones
i feel anticipation burning and when i put my ear to the floor i hear revolution
and yet i'm ashamed at the simplicity
of humanity and its mentality
and how easy this society can be shaped and molded
into formless mindless clay
too much has been said about
the end of time
a million pointed fingers
including mine
but when the dusk falls to begin
the august winter we all will have written a verse
to the final gospel
the end of time
a million pointed fingers
including mine
but when the dusk falls to begin
the august winter we all will have written a verse
to the final gospel [2x]
so throw up your hands
and sing a praise to your lord
for the ability to see and yet not see what we cannot ignore
now i feel there is no hope
time's a clock that's moving backwards
ticking away our last chances moving so much faster
i think we're already dead!
no matter what's been said!
hell is now and now is hell
and we will pay for all we did
[x2]
someone somewhere is laughing so had at how easily things can be taken so very
hard and still we feed the fire of the coming storm that is human extermination
taking form
from deep inside my bones
i feel anticipation burning and when i put my ear to the floor i hear revolution
and yet i'm ashamed at the simplicity
of humanity and its mentality
and how easy this society can be shaped and molded
into formless mindless clay
too much has been said about
the end of time
a million pointed fingers
including mine
but when the dusk falls to begin
the august winter we all will have written a verse
to the final gospel