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• Artiste: Mute
• Titre: King Of Spades
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Last glimpse of hope, Vanishes in the dark, It's hard to carry on, Friends are, falling at our sides, Resistance seem to fail, Got to be standing strong, When will bad luck end? This reality check, Keeps repeating on and on again. Ten years of crafting our own voice, At the top out lungs, Wishing that, the future might hold better days, We thrive, on grinding punk rock songs, This is how we define, Can't be slowing down, Under the black sky we aim, Straight to the vanishing point, Can't turn away from the fixation of, Losing what we gained, Until our hands, Break and give up, We'll be playing hard pushing the envelope, Aware of the urgency, We clearly see that, What's here can be gone tomorrow. Can't stop the staving minds, With dread and concepts of dismay, We got to do it our own way, We got to do it our own way. Ten years of crafting our own voice, At the top out lungs, Wishing that, the future might hold better days, We thrive, on grinding punk rock songs, This is how we define, Can't be slowing down, Under the black sky we aim, Straight to the vanishing point, Can't turn away from the fixation of, Losing what we gained, From the fixation of, Losing what we gained, Until our hands, Break and give up, We'll be playing hard pushing the envelope, Aware of the urgency, We clearly see that, What's here can be gone tomorrow. Time is fleeting for those who wait, Time is slipping for those who delay