| The curtains calling again
|
| Your tempers ticking down
|
| It’s nearly time to begin to
|
| Enflame
|
| Your timely mortal sin
|
| You’ve had this bottled up and now its time to give in
|
| Cause we all need someone to blame
|
| 2 minutes of hate
|
| Point the finger name and shame
|
| 2 minutes of hate
|
| So let the ink boil in your veins
|
| Written in blood on the page
|
| Draw up the cross hairs
|
| Take your aim
|
| 2 minutes
|
| 2 minutes of hate
|
| 2 minutes of hate
|
| 2 minutes a day
|
| Where do I begin?
|
| The novel writing machines
|
| Regurgitating enemies
|
| Any remedy for your agenda or your smokescreen
|
| You
|
| Give infame to a pedestal
|
| Nickname it unforgettable
|
| Like if we’re choking on your slogans
|
| You can, I don’t know…
|
| Keep us alive
|
| If we bury the migrants
|
| You can keep us alive
|
| But Whatever we say Whatever box we tick
|
| You’ll put your drones in the sky
|
| And take your aim, prick
|
| So let the ink boil in your veins
|
| Written in blood on the page
|
| Draw up the cross hairs
|
| Take your aim
|
| 2 minutes
|
| 2 minutes of hate
|
| We’re just the messengers
|
| We’re just the messengers
|
| We’re just the messenger
|
| They’re the authors of your pain
|
| Go hang on your fucking puppet strings
|
| I’m sorry
|
| I’m not thinking
|
| I’m under your control
|
| So let the ink boil in your veins
|
| Written in blood on the page
|
| Draw up the cross hairs
|
| Take your aim
|
| 2 minutes
|
| 2 minutes of hate
|
| 2 minutes of hate
|
| 2 minutes a day
|
| They’re the authors of your pain
|
| Now enrage
|
| Enrage |