Action Action. An Army Of Shapes Between Wars. Smoke And Mirrors. Zeneszám

Comatose, feed my head with liberty, I've got an appetite for deceit. I'm done, well done, stick fork in
me, cover me in apathy, dicreetly and distinct able. I am trying to break your heart. I'm plagued with
doubt, no frogs or murdered first born. My thoughts are just a little sun burnt, dismantle all that ever
was, strip it down: withdraw the blood. Something going to break real soon, who's covering whose eyes?
Safety in knowing others lies pulled by the strings of time. Hold me back: I'm going to throw it all down
on the table. Do you expect us to believe in these fables? Oh, what to do with you? with you, with you,
with you? Hold me tight, it seems all I really have is in front of me, is the rest just a dream or a
fallacy? Oh, what to do with you? with you, with you, with you? A throw back to all those 80's slasher
flicks, you're a cheap killer, and I'm getting sick of it. God's dead, and all bets have waived their
rights, all is fair in love and time, who win the game of war? Illusion, a delusion, a terrible secret,
what one does see is another's lost prophet. Hold me close, I can see right through you, challegne all
you've ever heard, incite the search and motivate. Somthing going to break real soon, who's covering whose
eyes? Safety in knowing others lies, pulled by the strings of time. Please read between the lines, a
simple compromise between the sands of time. Please say with me, say with me...