Mistwalker - The Ghost of My Cough

Exhale your own death from your lungs
Once a vital source for creating life
Now a sentence to the eternal grave
In this world where we are but mice

Obelisks tunnelling through the sky
Holes torn in the sphere of our minds
Fires burn within our eyes
As we fall and leave broken bodies behind

The empty lives of ones we called gods
Bent on nothing but a profit margin
Is this the price we pay for another price?
A profit for a prophet with a doomsday device

I give no forgiveness to you who grind the thought
That we obey you while our black blood is drying up
I will not stand here and let you preach your creed
Before this madness ends it's us who'll make you bleed

You make us choke and gasp for air
Just to get one last breath so that we might live
You've wrought nothing but despair
Now death is all that I've got left to give

Revolution
Revolution
Revolution
Revolution

It is worth dying for if I could strike you down
Burn all you stand for, watch your idea drown
For if this occurs then bet that I'll be back
A life for a life drenched in the earthen black

You are the only ones who should not be kept alive
You block our kind and all for which we strive
We would be so much better off if you did not exist
But no matter what we do you continue to persist

I swear to the universe that for as long as I'm not dead
You all will wish that you were instead
And then even after I have perished
I'll haunt your palaces and raze all that your cherish

I'll follow you into the farthest reaches of the Earth
Incorporeal and destined for rebirth
Climb to the mountain top that I might push you off
I'll haunt you day and night as the ghost of my cough

Written by:
Greg Sweetapple

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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