| I’d rather be in exile than a liar
|
| but I’m not ashamed
|
| I believe in all I say
|
| too scare to be afraid
|
| as my truth will find a way
|
| The silver strangers
|
| they dance around the lacerated angels
|
| in the rising flames
|
| nothing can change us
|
| as one we fight despite the deadly dangers
|
| the art remains
|
| A gallery of enemies all wait
|
| to use their sixty different words for hate
|
| and so I play their game
|
| but I will never be enslaved
|
| indissidence we pray
|
| and live to cry another day
|
| The silver strangers
|
| they dance around the lacerated angels
|
| in the rising flames
|
| nothing can change us
|
| as one we fight despite the deadly dangers
|
| but the art remains
|
| but the art remains…
|
| The silver strangers
|
| they dance around the lacerated angels
|
| and fan the flames
|
| so who will save us
|
| injustice for the lustful and the faithless
|
| but the art remains
|
| with hearts untamed |