One more gone, no flowers will make a tombstone go away
when dead dogs in the rear-view just pass me by
and speakers are pumping freedom is slavery
will my blood leave your conscience when I die?
They use love to close the door
then the truth becomes the hangman
Locked in Room 101
they use the stains under your own shoes
Yeah they steal your dreams – but all the bad dreams’ still your own…
One more gone, no letters of forgiveness will calm the dead
when all that’s left of love is words on stone
and choirs are singing ignorance is strength. Hallelujah!
will my blood leave your fingers when I die?
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