i strike the last match out and it lights up my face
identified by the scars and the tears, forged from hate
i begin to lean, the cracking bricks begin to brake
thy streak of death has come to the pearly white gates
five deadly fingers clench at the world gone in flakes
alive but crossing over, the stench grabs, pulls me to this place
i guess God wants me to feel it, savor this rancid taste
pride and dead bodies mixed in on one gigantic plate
slide away my young brothers, go once again to Gods embrace
things aside, he'll laugh at me for my krylon blaim
its never the leader, only the swords fluid stain
that leaves a blood trail accross the feilds name
"so and so fought here" but in my eyes its all the same
the crickets of time, make noise in my mind
the crimes for which god will make me atone for, are mine.
as i puff against the cold, my eyes light with the snowflakes
falling onto a desert slope dipping in and out of no place
and a single white speck is caught, the cigarette slowly darkens
mazes of light and darkness, rays begin to center
and my soul is pulled into the heavens
had this happend the minds of many would be at rest
a man would fall, a regime and tyrant would be dead
laden didnt drop the towers, our chief did.
but in this scenario, the man behind a mobster war
would feel the warmth, the fury to the core..
and on some distant battle field, God would forgive this whore
on the podium he speaks of success while we're washed into the curl
if only he was talking about the same war,even the same world
im on a shitty comp so i dont know if the lines overlap
tell me if it does.
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