Prowling along the edge of misery. Suffocating on hope of 
better days. Questioning minds fed with the myth of opportunity. Born-dead  Death at birth. Unwanted  Still essential. Exploited  As they want. Born-dead  But shall rise. Destiny chosen by fortunate ones, wounded for life. Can't become a master when you're born a slave. Death for those who will speak loud. Slavery for the shut mouths. Mortification for majority so that masters keep sleeping in their castles built of gold. A child's dream, nothing but dreams, will soon start to burn and turn to ashes. The production equation doesn't bring wealth for every one, a thing to benefit the fortunate onesempowered ones. Awake the born dead.
    Página 1 / 1

    Letras y título
    Acordes y artista

    restablecer los ajustes
    OK