Heads Will Hang Songtext

Fit For An Autopsy

von The Great Collapse

Heads Will Hang Songtext
Death's breath on the back of our neck. The bitter taste of blood, flowing in floods
Consuming all the rations, neglect is a crime of passion
I don't believe we've earned our keep or deserve this peace, self centered catastrophes
Armies of fools will fall. Nights of no end. Writing on the wall

War is now the will of your God. The prophets hands are stained
War is now the will of your God. Heads Will Hang

All hail the antiheroes. Life reduced to ones and zeros. Expand and expire. Voices of reason retire
The threat is real, when you can feel the pain they feel. The writing's on the wall

War is now the will of your God. The prophets hands are stained
War is now the will of your God. Heads Will Hang

Soul Seller. Fortune Teller. Plague Bearer
The fog won't lift. These comforts are counterfeit. The kings of shame stretch the divide
The pieces never fit. First world counterfeits. The great collapse now justified

Peace is merely a gift for the privileged, safeguarded from the pain
This indifference is paid in blood. All hands are stained
The grip of oppression tightens the noose, but when they kick out the chair, heads will hang

War is now the will of your God
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