Из альбома: Project Silence
Pressure of my vengeange
A star lit by my wrath
Our race - superior
Lift up thine spirit to higher depths
The weight of your sins keep you down
Pressed to the ground
Beaten onto the dust
The weight of your hate dims the vision
Sweet tears of joy bleed from your veins
Downwards
Pleasant thoughts can be decieving
Leading you towards this temple of flesh and light
Stand alone on the edge of this void and emptiness
The cities, the lights, these lifes
The ghosts in the machine
This Pressure binds all of life into a hollow shell, imitating lesser gods
Unleashing a revolution
Offering another solution
Man made god to sweep away the errors
Pressure
Pressure
Revolution