Colorless smithereens birth in the factories of fears in dulcet irony appraise their bequests the glittering basin of woes gened inherently from fathers to sons mothers to daughters alike breezing in vapid happenstance cages the soiled minds supreme yodeling gaslight from their gas chambers narrow one track minded polluted souls in contaminated schooling professors of life's negativity bequeathing their Antonyms inheritances so for whom the bells toll they project gened inadequacies and frustrations in picture postcards from their hell the ****** damning offering free pass to their dungeons of Pathetic Souls Ascension
Make his fight on the hill in the early day Constant chill deep inside Shouting gun, on they run through the endless grey On the fight, for they are right, yes, by who's to say? For a hill men would ****, why? They do not know Stiffened wounds test there their pride Men of five, still alive through the raging glow Gone insane from the pain that they surely know For whom the bell tolls Time marches on For whom the bell tolls