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

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