| It’s not enough.
|
| I’ve given up.
|
| They’re wielding guns,
|
| We’ve been taken over.
|
| Uncertain moves.
|
| Let instinct choose.
|
| Their every move
|
| to leave us cornered
|
| I know it’s true,
|
| Our sweat and blood,
|
| And armoured skirts crimson
|
| Story book, pretty soldiers.
|
| As we grow up,
|
| There’s nothing left.
|
| Bow and arrow in hand,
|
| Stand up, follow orders.
|
| How cruel have we become?
|
| To know what we have done?
|
| Tomorrow, another one,
|
| «Dear, you’re not here.»
|
| We watched them leave.
|
| Leave our homes… (Forgettable)
|
| We embrace steel, and now we know
|
| That we,
|
| have control.
|
| Orient maid, free our souls
|
| (Feel the drums and they hum so loud
|
| Shooting guns from a one man crowd)
|
| Geisha of Blades, wise and cold
|
| (No fun and no love and not proud
|
| What they’ve done to a lover’s home town)
|
| How cruel have I become?
|
| To know what I’ve done?
|
| Tomorrow, another,
|
| «Dear, you’re not here.»
|
| And how we feel, no one can know… (Identical)
|
| Our virtues close, and personal.
|
| So we,
|
| have control.
|
| Sister of Blades, take my soul.
|
| (Feel the drums and they hum so loud |
| Shooting guns from a one man crowd)
|
| Release my pain, one handed blow.
|
| (No fun and no love and not proud
|
| What they’ve done to a lover’s home town)
|
| I’ll be your leader to the other side.
|
| Now we ride.
|
| Inclined, to die.
|
| Women like us, I’ve come to find
|
| Our seldom blind, to life’s many horrors.
|
| In strength they trust, and keep in mind
|
| The people lost and left behind.
|
| Orient maid, free our souls.
|
| (Feel the drums and they hum so loud
|
| Shooting guns from a one man crowd)
|
| Geisha of Blades, wise and cold.
|
| (No fun and no love and not proud
|
| What they’ve done to a lover’s home town)
|
| Sister of Blades, take my soul.
|
| (Feel the drums and they hum so loud
|
| Shooting guns from a one man crowd)
|
| Release my pain, one handed blow.
|
| (No fun and no love and not proud
|
| What they’ve done to a lover’s home town)
|
| It’s just a game, not a war.
|
| (Feel the drums and they hum so loud
|
| Shooting guns from a one man crowd)
|
| We cannot gain as we lose more.
|
| (No fun and no love and not proud
|
| What they’ve done to a lover’s home town) |