Rip it up Tear it down Who will own this fight? Spitting bombs across the great divide Sent arrows, broken arrows, flaming arrows Right into the heart of the city tonight Apocalyptic pock marks on the stretched out soul Of a city now a monstrous canker, behold Billowing smoke against the twilight sky While the innocent suffer, weep and cry out: There is nothing more this time Just the stench of rank decay There is nothing more this time And what price were you willing to pay? Tell me does your end justify the means? Scythe in hand we reap what sprung from bitter seeds Tell me, will our hands ever be clean? There is nothing more this time Just the stench of rank decay There is nothing more this time And what price were you willing to pay? The wicked sleep in their split level homes Content with lies they’re fed and doing what they’re told Living lives of excess with paranoid minds Terror wrought in their name, and yet inherently blind Rip it up Tear it down What burden this fight? Talking heads spew forth manufactured lies And the zombie consumers work nine to five While this fatal infraction eclipses the light Apocalyptic pock marks on the stretched out soul Of a city now a monstrous canker, behold Billowing smoke against the twilight sky While the innocent suffer, weep and cry out: Tell me does the end justify the means? Scythes in hand we reap what sprung from bitter seeds Tell me will my hands ever be clean? © 2004 eveghost
