Lyrics
When a war cannot be won by the volume of a claim
Never compromise the gun for the bullet it contains
And now, is the time to forget what you believe
It’s the road in your mind, it’s the fire in the trees
We are walking in the rain, we are practicing our fame
Every open door is slammed in our face
and yet this remains
There’s a victim being shunned, and a poet being trained
By a fornicating nun with an artificial brain
And now, is the sign to erase what you believe
It’s the path to align, it’s the cure to the disease
We are walking in the rain, we are practicing our fame
Every open door is slammed in our face
and yet this remains
