The Chosen Ones - A Cold Dead Body

Until the desert grows

and burns the earth with care,

until the worms had lost

their smelly comfort,

our bodies won’t turn sane,

our minds won’t feel the pain,

but our fear is flying unconsciously

through our empty smiles.

(What we need is a Weapon, to escape)

Escape right now

from the womb they’ve built

for your comfort.

We are the victims.

We have just to react:

«be our hero!»

What we need is a weapon,

what we need is a meaning,

what we deserve is a chance to escape.

We are just prisoners.

There we are,

there they are:

just prisoners.