The Real -

Take your instruments of war

Burn down your stars

And create a whole new sky

Before everyone discovers your lie

All the fuckers that cast their spell

And wished for me a bitter hell

I wish to thank you for your words

There is nothing more to hurt

Not your evil and your wicked heart

Could kill the truth in my honest art

Nothing else can strike me dead

Only the creativity in my head

When the fire is at your feet

Not a knife thrown yet and you already bleed

Preachers of reality

It is all but real I see

Oh watch over my head

Cause the bitch of live went mad