| I have dreams of better times to come
|
| I’d like to voice them show how my feelings run
|
| Black clouds there to trip me up
|
| False horizons there to mix you up
|
| You’re caught and frenzied behind your front door
|
| You know the score
|
| Psycho-babble metal mystery
|
| Setting fire to forgotten history
|
| Every dog has it’s day
|
| Chewing on razorblades
|
| But you can’t teach a zealot how to pray
|
| You’re always sucking up and spitting down
|
| Brains to burn and a head that’s underground
|
| But all in all you know you just don’t care
|
| Those hollow voices can’t make you scared
|
| Follow the rhythm of metal mystery
|
| Every dog has it’s day
|
| Chewing on razorblades
|
| But you can’t teach a zealot how to pray
|
| Black clouds there to trip you up
|
| False horizons there to mix you up
|
| Follow the rhythm of metal mystery
|
| I’ve wasted time in places you’ve never been
|
| I’ve sweated blood over people who are not my scene
|
| Every dog has it’s day
|
| Chewing on razorblades
|
| But you can’t teach a zealot how to pray
|
| Every dog has it’s day
|
| Chewing on razorblades
|
| But you can’t teach a zealot how to pray |