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Unarmed For Victory
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Lion in a Room of Vultures
My hold on myself is always slipping away
These hands could play with matches, they could take the pain
These city lights, if only they knew what I do
The town would fall in darkness,
The people would blame you
Why, just why, does it seem I will be miserable always?
I'm told sometimes we need to believe in what we can't see
My hold on myself is always slipping away
These hands, they can build houses,
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These hands could paint a scenery,
But they could never protect an infant
An infant
I can only hope they'll bury me in the deep blue sea
Since you constantly claim you'll dance on my grave
This isn't a science or an art anymore
This is war
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