The Shape of Things to Come - Hocico

Into the realms of hate

Into the realms of war

No we’re not dreaming

Now try to run away

As fast as you can

Outside these grounds of hell

A burning world consumes

The flames are everywhere

Their eyes full of pain

Once fiction was our dream

Now fiction is our hell

We shaped our glorious end

As world comes crashing down

No more screams are heard

No we’re not dreaming

Everything here has changed

Everything is destroyed

The fiction becomes truth

Wish there was a reason to stop this madness

You go keep tasting your own decadence

Bloody times, no one can talk

A glorious suicide to end up alone

Nobody escapes what we’ve done

In this bloody wasted place

And certain things remain untold

Deep in ourselves a twisted soul

And that’s the shape of things to come

We try to change it but it’s too late

Now we’re just living annihilate

And that’s the shape of things to come