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Ghost Mice
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House of the God of War
Okay I might be full of hatred, but I ain't no god of war.
I will pack my bags when I can't take it anymore.
Let them come let their towers rise.
Let them choke our streets let them block out our skies.
I will be so far away,
I'll go looking for some greener home
Dig a deep dark dreadful hole
And throw my memories away
And never will I ever come to visit their grave
I was the young adventurer that found a secret land.
I made a map of it on the back of my hand.
And the days were long and made of gold.
The nights held secrets newer to be told
Now the sun doesn't rise as high these days.
And they burn witches at the stake.
And when the last of the magic fades
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I will go, I will go again
I'll find another home or I will die trying
And maybe it's just me I know.
Maybe I just got too old.
Maybe I refused to grow.
But the ghosts here can't be wrong.
They hear my laments and they always sing along.
Things have got much worse.
Greed's a gruesome curse.
It's covering the earth.
You can lock yourself inside;
Or you can hide yourself in lies;
Or forget what came before;
Or start saying your prayer to the God of War!
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