1, 2, 3
Do you remember when work was bond, a fleeting promise in the light of the dawn.
Barren December under a falling sky, the end of days are the reason to die.
Obliteration never looked so divine.
Holding your breath for the moment in time
You lived through hell, now you're trying to die
The skin is healed but your bleeding inside
Shots fired just to numb the pain
There's no one left to save
Night blind on the shining path
Ghost walking in the aftermath
Hypnotized, 60 cycle hum
The broken cadence of a distant drum
21 to 1 I'm liking the odds
A blood junkie with a lightning rod
A dirty rig and a heavenly nod
And still you wind up nowhere
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