Art of Defeat - Goodpasture Lyrics

A question leaves the gate as fables count apostles
Stitches hold the wound at bay while the cavalry blossoms
Dried lungs split blood and the dirt is stained with losses
We beg and scream for peace, but peace is strung on crosses

Marching the crusade with a whimpering smile
Masking the pain like the death of a child
Without a shiver or judgement
A grave is just a grave

Noble deeds only pacify, as we tread each priceless hour
Crippled men carry lifeless limbs; if only time would let them borrow
Some free time or some lost space, it would do our simple thoughts right in
Some free will or a thick rope
I believe, would do just the same

Without a shiver or judgement
A grave is just a grave

Dried lungs split blood and the dirt is stained with losses
We beg and scream for peace, but peace is strung on crosses
Holy wars only pauperize; as we drill straight to the bottom
Prostitutes flirt with casualties; dancing round such casual causes

A question leaves the gates as we trample all, the sick, the weak

Dried lungs split blood
While Martyrs hang from crosses
We beg and scream
The dirt is stained with losses