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Urgh! Yeah!
I did my time, and I want out.
So effusive - fade - it doesn't cut.
The soul is not so vibrant.
The reckoning, the sickening.
Packaging subversion.
Pseudo sacrosanct perversion.
Go drill your deserts, go dig you graves.
Then fill your mouth with all the money you have saved.
Sinking in, getting smaller again.
I'm done, it has begun.
I'm not the only one.
And the rain will kill us all.
We throw ourselves against the wall.
But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me.
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
Oh, there are cracks in the road we laid.
But where the temple fell.
The secrets have gone mad.
This is nothing new, but when we kill it all.
The hate was all we had.
Who needs another mess? We could start over.
Just look me in the eyes and say I'm wrong.
Now there's only emptiness.
Venomous, insepid.
I think we're done, I'm not the only one.
And the rain will kill us all.
We throw ourselves against the wall.
But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me.
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
The limits of the dead!
The limits of the dead!
The limits of the dead!
The limits of the dead!
Fake anti-facist lie.
I tried to tell you, but your purple hearts are giving out.
Can't stop a killing idea if it's hunting season.
Is this what you want?
I'm not the only one!
And the rain will kill us all.
We throw ourselves against the wall.
But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me.
And the rain will kill us all.
We throw ourselves against the wall.
But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me.
The limits of the dead!
The limits of the dead!
I did my time, and I want out.
So effusive - fade - it doesn't cut.
The soul is not so vibrant.
The reckoning, the sickening.
Packaging subversion.
Pseudo sacrosanct perversion.
Go drill your deserts, go dig you graves.
Then fill your mouth with all the money you have saved.
Sinking in, getting smaller again.
I'm done, it has begun.
I'm not the only one.
And the rain will kill us all.
We throw ourselves against the wall.
But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me.
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
Oh, there are cracks in the road we laid.
But where the temple fell.
The secrets have gone mad.
This is nothing new, but when we kill it all.
The hate was all we had.
Who needs another mess? We could start over.
Just look me in the eyes and say I'm wrong.
Now there's only emptiness.
Venomous, insepid.
I think we're done, I'm not the only one.
And the rain will kill us all.
We throw ourselves against the wall.
But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me.
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
The limits of the dead!
The limits of the dead!
The limits of the dead!
The limits of the dead!
Fake anti-facist lie.
I tried to tell you, but your purple hearts are giving out.
Can't stop a killing idea if it's hunting season.
Is this what you want?
I'm not the only one!
And the rain will kill us all.
We throw ourselves against the wall.
But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me.
And the rain will kill us all.
We throw ourselves against the wall.
But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me.
The limits of the dead!
The limits of the dead!
Lyrics submitted by Haunted Devil
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I did my time, and I want out.
So effusive - fade - it doesn't cut.
The soul is not so vibrant.
The reckoning, the sickening.
Packaging subversion.
Pseudo sacrosanct perversion.
Go drill your deserts, go dig you graves.
Then fill your mouth with all the money you have saved.
Sinking in, getting smaller again.
I'm done, it has begun.
I'm not the only one.
(I've been a part of this consumerist paradise for too long, and now I want something real. I've realised that there's more to life than money, and I'm not the only one)
And the rain will kill us all.
We throw ourselves against the wall.
But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me.
(Yes, we will die no matter what we do, but nobody realises how willing I am to die to prove a point. We're not invincible, and your life should be spent LIVING rather than EARNING.)
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
Oh, there are cracks in the road we laid.
But where the temple fell.
The secrets have gone mad.
This is nothing new, but when we kill it all.
The hate was all we had.
Who needs another mess? We could start over.
Just look me in the eyes and say I'm wrong.
Now there's only emptiness.
Venomous, insepid.
I think we're done, I'm not the only one.
(In the past we've looked to religion for answers, but when we realised how fruitless it was and abandoned our religions, all we had left was hatred of our world. You can't deny that we could ALL make a concerted effort to make the world a better place, but you'll never do it because you love your money too much. Because of greed, the world is a grim place, filled with hate and stupidity. I'm sick of it, and I'm not the only one.)
Fake anti-facist lie.
I tried to tell you, but your purple hearts are giving out.
Can't stop a killing idea if it's hunting season.
Is this what you want?
I'm not the only one!
(You compare our democracy to extreme forms of government so we'll think we have it better than anyone else, but it's obvious a few rich elites REALLY rule this place. I've tried to warn people, but they'd rather not hear the truth. We're all looking for an answer, and you can't stop people believing what's most convenient for them. Is to continue to be lied to and led what you REALLY want? I'm not the only one who's sick of this.)
At least, this is my interpretation. I could always be wrong.
The temple? Maybe Wall Street, maybe Solomon's Temple more than 2000 years ago, maybe the Buddha statues destroyed by the Taliban, maybe just a cool image.
"But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me" is hard to wrap your head around. IF they really thought about it, it may mean that he did his time, he's disgusted with the destruction but knows he's only going to sign up again.
Stupid asses. Learn to read and observe. Damn. >.>
The chorus explains that you are willing to give up something for something that you loveand put faith in.But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me.
But his are the dead or being dead
I did my time, and I want out.
So effusive - fade - it doesn't cut.
The soul is not so vibrant.
The reckoning, the sickening.
Packaging subversion.
Pseudo sacrosanct perversion.
*My interpretation is that he is a military soldier who is fed up with this war. He did his time, but he wants out*
Go drill your deserts, go dig you graves.
Then fill your mouth with all the money you have saved.
Sinking in, getting smaller again.
I'm done, it has begun.
I'm not the only one.
*The Us Governments secretly drilling up all the Oil wells in iraq, and also filling graves with the many soldiers they are sending out there to fight and this guy is done with it, and others are also getting fed up with it so he isnt the only one.*
And the rain will kill us all.
We throw ourselves against the wall.
But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me.
*My interpretation is that hes is saying that everyday he(the soldiers) are putting there lives on the line for a war that may be for the wrong reasons, and he isnt willing to be a Martyr for it, he wants to preserve his life for something more*
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
Oh, there are cracks in the road we laid.
But where the temple fell.
The secrets have gone mad.
This is nothing new, but when we kill it all.
The hate was all we had.
Who needs another mess? We could start over.
Just look me in the eyes and say I'm wrong.
Now there's only emptiness.
Venomous, insepid.
I think we're done, I'm not the only one.
* The many building that have fallen during the duration of the war (possible searching for WMD's) but none are found so he may be suspecting some sort of conspiracy and its getting ridiculous so in return he is starting to form hate and emptiness. He is wanting to say to the government to look him in the eyes and tell him all his suspicious thoughts are wrong. And that he is done with it along with many others*
And the rain will kill us all.
We throw ourselves against the wall.
But no-one else can see, the preservation of the martyr in me.
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
Psychosocial! Psychosocial! Psychosocial!
The limits of the dead!
The limits of the dead!
The limits of the dead!
The limits of the dead!
Fake anti-facist lie.
I tried to tell you, but your purple hearts are giving out.
Can't stop a killing idea if it's hunting season.
Is this what you want?
I'm not the only one!
*Tired of the governments false truths, and that there has been too many lives lost too many people receiving purples hearts for being hurt in the war.
**just my interpretation of the song*
ITS A SHIT SONG!!!
FUCK YOU!!
YOU MAGGOTS SHOULD GO KILLYOURSELF!!!!@!!!