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• Artiste: Dear Hunter, The
• Titre: Mr. Malum
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Mr. Malum's got a secret, he keeps them in his speeches. Just a whisper in precision, that cuts through hesitation. With a sharp and evil whip to keep the dogs at bay. When the truth arrives, you wont believe your eyes. He's triumph's pessimist, but he's no less content. With the world in the grip of his hands, He'll crush the air out of it's lungs. Say we don't want him to have it all, But now it's just too late to ask, Because his hold has turned so tight. His puppets to the left and his pawns to mime the right, But every heart is front and center, a cruel intoxication, From the sound that trickles down his branches to their mouths. When the truth arrives, you wont believe your eyes. A vicious champion, but he's no less content. When the world rolls in the grip of his hands, He'll crush the air out of it's lungs. Say we don't want him to have it all, But now it's just too late to ask, Because his hold has turned so tight. The air we're barely breathings not enough, And this final gasp that rattles us to bend, The last thing we will see, is Mr. Malum. The thin of his tie, One slink of the suit, A link to cuff, And the shine of his shoes. But when the truth arrives, you wont believe your eyes. Say we don't want him to have it all, But now it's just too late to ask. You had your chance, but you turned away again. You had your chance, but you turned away again. You had your chance, but you turned your eyes away again.