Slow the procession
That moves down
The road as they mourn
Hearts that are heavy
No burden, unloaded
No resolution
No retribution
The madness
Must stop now
No
Whisper the dead to
The living, they can't heal
It is cold
But in the sadness
That pierces my heart
Seeds we sow
And in the end all
We have is each other
Zennon!
Zennon!
Zennon!
Zennon!
Moulded by computer
Archetypes killing
Is fun
Nervous, the young boy
His first job, he lifts up
It is gun
Victims of circumstance
Products of that we've
Begun
Wide open mouths as
The killer, he knows that
He is done
But in the sadness
That pierces my heart
Seeds we sow
And in the end all
We have is each other
Zennon!
Zennon!
Zennon!
Zennon!
But in the sadness
That pierces my heart
Seeds we sow
And in the end all
We have is each other
Zennon!
Zennon!
Zennon!
Zennon!
Zennon!
Zennon!
