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The Rigs
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The Hunted
They come with bows and arrows
They come with their swords drawn
They come with pistols at their sides
And torches lit with fire
They're stormin' every castle
Hoping to steal our gold
We are the hunted
We are the chosen ones
We are the wanted
We are what they can't touch
They stand with shaking fingers
They come with holy books
They are the coming darkness
We are the lightning strike
We are the love that burns the skies and fills your eyes with fire
We are the hunted
We are the chosen ones
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We are the wanted
We are the burning sun
We are the hunted
We are the chosen ones
We are the wanted
We are what they can't touch
We are the dream that you have when you sleep
That stays when you wake and turns all your colours grey
We are [?]
We are the hunted
We are the chosen ones
We are the wanted
We are the burning sun
We are the hunted
We are the chosen ones
We are the wanted
We are what they can't touch
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