We'll make it out of the dead of winter, despite all the things we hate. From broken homes left in the shadows. Against the grain, we will escape. Racing through the city streets, pounding pavement with our feet. Free from the world's crushing weight. Far from beaten paths, won't resign to fate. Not content with dying. Not content with just surviving. Spitting in the face of anything that slows our pace. Flip every cross that crosses you. Burn every church that casts it's shadow on you. Their values never appealed to us. Their rules do not apply to us. Refuse to be complicit in a verdict based on original sin. Against anything that holds us back. Out of step. O.C. wolfpack. Make the most, where others merely make ends meet. Letting go of all regrets. Slow burn, slow death, like cigarettes. Try to push that poison down our throats. We'll bite back hard, so keep that smoke out of the air that our lungs breathe, out of the eyes we need to see the future that we're racing forth to change. Desperately, trying hard to stay curious and with open minds to think for ourselves, and redefine the lines that keep us disconnected. They keep our intents misdirected. Make the most, where others merely make ends meet. "In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer." - Albert Camus. And nothing can break our stride. No world's weight can keep us tied down with doubt. Not down with gods or masters. Neither sleep nor slumber can overtake us. We'll break down their weary world before it breaks us. This song is for every one of us.
Track Name: Liquid Swords
There's no point in trying to beat into your head what I can say straight, in no uncertain terms. I struggle too, but I tried and I just can't relate. So you're angry - we're all fucking angry. What's your point? No one here cares about how hard you can throw around your weight. The same attitude from the world outside that I come here to escape. I hate it. Won't tolerate intimidation. This pen in my hand holds much more weight than your sword. The strongest fists in the end always lose out to words. You claim, "might makes right". Then you're going to lose this fight. My edge on you is my insight.