Horse Called War - Fields of Poverty

There's evil on our thrones
Deceit pulled over our eyes
The pleasures of tattered flesh
Have made us all addicts
Innocence robbed by faceless foes
Deeper we dig this hole
And raise our hands to a god who's silent
Drag the weight
Feel the pain
Pitiful waste
Feeds the greed
An honest day for honest pay
Your manicured hands have never seen
Our fathers lie in disbelief
As we form lines to pay the weak
We're growing fields of poverty
By planting illiterate seeds
Turn our backs choose not to see the rapist
Drag the weight
Feel the pain
Pitiful waste
Feeds the greed
Drag the weight
Feel the pain
Pitiful waste
Feeds the greed

Written by:
Aaron Kjorstjens, Aaron Korstjens

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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