Cold As Life. Declination Of Independence. You've Still Not Won. Zeneszám

Question not my hate for you.
Your world and people I walk on.
You've killed all my throught and throught,
but within myself you've still not won.

Seething hate, overwheming weight,
We are pressure cooked, but your hellbound booked.

Some born blinded, evil minded.
They raep whats sewn, live whats known,
and dealt from a cheats hand.
Evils Evil and Evils man.
Year after year, more and more were choking inside,
with nowhere to hide.
We're bloody bruised, walk on used, stuggle to fight,
with no end insight.
Back of the wall, but we stand tall