Lyrics Iscariote - Implore

Iscariote

Nailed to the cross
That points up to the sky
Crucifixion of ideals
Rot slowly and dies
A mere attempt
To obtain the demands
Whilst the dismal
Burns from inside
Sore feelings
Of those seeking life
Guilty of all pleasures
Hide in their lies
Deny it
two more times
Thirty silver coins
Sold convictions
Eradicated heart
Bigotry biased
No one else left behind
Sore feelings
Of those seeking life
Last of a breed
Everyone has a price