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Artiste:
Sylosis
Titre:
Idle Hands
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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Held tongues, dying to speak Restless hands turned tired and weak Intention grows from a seed Ignites the flame beneath our feet And the ire growing Spreads like fire A mass insurgence Upraising the pyre What keeps the wolves at bay Whilst you sleep and they come to prey We forget their disdain And all that's left is the fear they crave Seclude to divide the fixation Accomplices of our own ruination Lost words and abandoned sages Searching for meaning in all the wrong places And what has become Of our objection So easily pushed aside By steadfast complacence What keeps the wolves at bay Whilst you sleep and they come to prey We forget their disdain And all that's left is the fear they crave Are you not adverse, To those you mistrust? Are you not sickened enough? What keeps the wolves at bay Whilst you sleep and they come to prey We forget their disdain And all that's left is the fear they crave