| We are drifting along without remembering
|
| We are merely strangling shadows
|
| We are morose, we are pathetic — we are done
|
| Look at us now — we are kneeling
|
| Look at us now — are we kneeling?
|
| When we should be — weeping with rage
|
| Or at least be rattling our chains
|
| Look at us now — we are over
|
| Look at us now — we are over
|
| We remain outside the circles
|
| Watching them turn
|
| When we are left with nothing to give
|
| Nothing to overcome or conquer
|
| History smells of traitor
|
| History smells of whore
|
| It’s flowing in our veins
|
| It’s oozing out through our pores
|
| When we should be — weeping with rage
|
| Or at least be rattling our chains
|
| Look at us now — we are over
|
| Look at us now — we are over
|
| You who mistook love for boredom
|
| You who have no self-control
|
| You who confuse talking with breathing
|
| What do you know — of the lives we’re leading?
|
| History smells of traitor — History smells of whore
|
| And yet again it pours — Death from the skies
|
| For a sunless life
|
| When we should be — weeping with rage
|
| Or at least be rattling our chains
|
| Look at us now — we are over |