Vulture Industries - Of Branded Blood - Sözleri

I lie here listening to sounds of this insane city

Twisting and turning for hours, still not able to sleep



Stray dogs they bark, bark and and howl like wolves outside my window

Bark, unkind, grind, evil, malign, villainous kind

Bark, unkind, evil, malign, never, ever, kind



Chasing shadows each of other like that rabid kind I call my kin

Villainous kind, bark, unkind, grind, evil, malign, devilish kind

Evil malicious minds



The stench of gutters blends with smog from hulking chimneys...

Dark, unkind, grind, evil, malign, villainous kind

Bark, unkind, evil, malign, never, ever, kind



... forming a thick dark mist allusive of our souls

Villainous kind, bark, unkind, grind, evil, malign, devilish kind

Evil malicious minds



For hours I have been twisting, turning for sleep

But terrified of what awaits



For days now I have been yearning for relief from this time and space














From the depths of limbo I hear calling, still I strive to cling

To the shards of a broken realm to maintain my essence, save my soul from hell

In the depths of Somnus my trial awaits me to deliver my plea

A scornful mob of the justly dispatched to hand me my verdict with sentence attached



The moist, stale air grows thicker, hotter, smothering me

Like the unwanted child of a deluded self-righteous mother

That abomination for long I have served



From the depths of limbo I hear calling, still I strive to cling

To the shards of a broken realm to maintain my essence, save my soul from hell

In the depths of Somnus my trial awaits me to deliver my plea

A scornful mob of the justly dispatched to hand me my verdict with sentence attached



No peace, no glory gained, just transient relief from worldly strain

Lo' there's no eluding those mental chains, of a soul pawned for a crock of gold

For the broken subject not of thought but of told, like a broken statue cast into the mould

Still as change might occur, forced or change from stir

The mind still retains some quintessence remains

Some essence maintains its grip on the broken man

To pull the soul from the iron hand

To cleanse, to purge, to wash away that bloody brand



Please don't weep for me sister for I have done much wrong

Don't despise me my brothers what's done is done

I've been lost on a cold night, been gone far and long

And for my deeds I'll repent there on my electric throne



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