And in the coming of the storm
There is a rising thought of violence
We have to make a peace with death
Before we find ourselves locked out
The way we work against each other
The way they make you take the fall
We pull the pin and run for cover
While they just hide behind a wall
The guns and knives are drawn
Fists clenched and knuckles scarred
Voices of reason, absent
A whisper...
(The Gears are bleeding
My Mind is reeling
Erase my eyes
Programmed lies)