Flight At Dawn
de LOST FILES
Population is a boggle, your organisms spread
Falling to conclusions that we're already dead
Wasteland for a nation, majority in fear
Message to incompetence, we don't need you here
Your mind your own conclusion
Their viruses infect.
War machine immortal, the cause to the effect.
We are bound to be elite
Conjured by the coldest witch
Spitting at the master's feet.
Sew transmission's final stitch.
Seduction of a nation, destruction family,
Crush the violence, crush the silence
Head back to the sea.
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Food Of Love
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Green World
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Old Temple
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