- 423
- 10
- Joined
- Oct 13, 2006
The truth...is limitless in it's range
If you, drop a "T" and look at it in reverse,
I could hurt, look at the grimaces of the pain
Where revolution is dead...
No candles in its memory, No rememberance of its fame
Jus a mystery no mention in the history of the chain
The enemy, no Hennessey sentiments in its name
Jus a unmarked grave that menaces had to fane
With the propaganda, an images of the gangs
A lost art, no apprentices in the trained
And they brainwashed, no interest in this thang
And the minds weary all the adrenaline in the drain
While the Wrecking Bosses, disassembling thangs
Our highness is the cause, its imminence is the blame
The pride is still here, the pillages still remain, but:
yea pick one
If you, drop a "T" and look at it in reverse,
I could hurt, look at the grimaces of the pain
Where revolution is dead...
No candles in its memory, No rememberance of its fame
Jus a mystery no mention in the history of the chain
The enemy, no Hennessey sentiments in its name
Jus a unmarked grave that menaces had to fane
With the propaganda, an images of the gangs
A lost art, no apprentices in the trained
And they brainwashed, no interest in this thang
And the minds weary all the adrenaline in the drain
While the Wrecking Bosses, disassembling thangs
Our highness is the cause, its imminence is the blame
The pride is still here, the pillages still remain, but:
yea pick one