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Born from some mother's womb,
Just like any other room.
Made a promise for a new life.
Made a victim out of your life.
When your time's on the door,
And it drips to the floor,
And you feel you can touch,
All the noise is too much,
And the seeds that are sown,
Are no longer your own.
Just a minor operation,
To force a final ultimatum.
Thousand words are spoken loud,
Reach the dumb to fool the crowd.
When you walk down the street,
And the sound's not so sweet,
And you wish you could hide,
Maybe go for a ride,
To some peep show arcade,
Where the future's not made.
A nightmare situation,
Infiltrate imagination,
Smacks of past Holy wars,
By the wall with broken laws.
The leaders of men,
Born out of your frustration.
The leaders of men,
Just a strange infatuation.
The leaders of men,
Made a promise for a new life.
No savior for our sakes,
To twist the internees of hate,
Self induced manipulation,
To crush all thoughts of mass salvation.
Just like any other room.
Made a promise for a new life.
Made a victim out of your life.
When your time's on the door,
And it drips to the floor,
And you feel you can touch,
All the noise is too much,
And the seeds that are sown,
Are no longer your own.
Just a minor operation,
To force a final ultimatum.
Thousand words are spoken loud,
Reach the dumb to fool the crowd.
When you walk down the street,
And the sound's not so sweet,
And you wish you could hide,
Maybe go for a ride,
To some peep show arcade,
Where the future's not made.
A nightmare situation,
Infiltrate imagination,
Smacks of past Holy wars,
By the wall with broken laws.
The leaders of men,
Born out of your frustration.
The leaders of men,
Just a strange infatuation.
The leaders of men,
Made a promise for a new life.
No savior for our sakes,
To twist the internees of hate,
Self induced manipulation,
To crush all thoughts of mass salvation.
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Born from some mother's womb
Just like any other room
Made a promise for a new life
Made a victim out of your life
When your time's on the door
And it drips to the floor
And you feel you can touch
All the noise is too much
And the seeds that are sown
Are no longer your own
Just a minor operation
To force a final ultimatum
'When your time's on the door
And it drips to the floor
And you feel you can touch
All the noise is too much
And the seeds that are sown
Are no longer your own'
The build up of this bit sounds alot like David Bowie's 'Queen Bitch'
thats what I think anyway..
wht its about, i have no idea. knowing ian curtis its probably something deep and meaningful.