Ramallah все тексты (слова) песен, переводы, видео, клипы

In the dark I can't remember your face
but I can feel them snakes behind my eyes.
You'd probably pick up all of your shit and split
if you had any idea what's in my mind.

Oh, I need a favor, hon'.
I need a mercy done.
I guess I'm counting on your light.

Darkness so far away
From the night of grace
light of day

Our darkness brings today
There no reason to fray

Your such a pretty flower

These are the days of revenge so sweet.
Can you feel it? Can you feel it?
There is a fear in the air that I have prayed for, for my whole life.
Can you feel it? And do you fear it?
And Malcolm was right:
The hate that we've sown has come home in the night.
So wake up. It's time to die.
Can you feel it? Can you feel it?

Here come the 757's.

If you don't ask why then you deserve to die
just like the millions that are ground under foot
by the powers-that-be and their policies
and a society that lets their bosses do as they please

And never asks 'why?' even as the death tolls rise

Here I'm bleeding as I'm drinking and I'm thinking that I'm sinking to a brand new hell that is worse than the hell that I knew before and all I want is more.
Yeah, it could kill me but I'd eagerly die for one more...

Ha! And if I die today,
what have I really had to say?
Will I be saved?

There's so much more to say.

Hatred.
I been hangin' on the corner, starin' at the night sky,
and ' the cars drive by.
The faces stare but they don't see me
as I think about the past and I wonder why?

Some of you were born into happiness and wealth
while some of us were born to a life of hell.

Shock And Awe

A new millennium is christened in 2003
When tens of thousands are condemned to die.
While we danced and drank fine wine
They were screaming to an empty sky.

Why?

As we plunge down
A dead end path of humanity
So they suffer
These are the days
In which blood is cheap
And it's the price of continued sleep
Don't trust, Don't believe
Those up top will gladly

Time is the fire in which we burn.
The bitter ash and dust of hate choke what remains.
So don't breathe a mote about fate or faith,
'cause those words and their toll leave so many so
cold.
And the story's so old yet it never gets told
but it's written in the scars on the wrists of the
lost