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M. Lockwood Porter
M. Lockwood Porter
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Peter Labberton
Peter Labberton
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Bevan Herbekian
Bevan Herbekian
Бас-гитара
Jeff Hashfield
Jeff Hashfield
Клавишные инструменты
Jeremy Lyon
Jeremy Lyon
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Tracey Holland
Tracey Holland
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МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Max Porter
Max Porter
Автор песен
M. Lockwood Porter
M. Lockwood Porter
Автор песен
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
JJ Golden
JJ Golden
Мастеринг-инженер
M. Lockwood Porter
M. Lockwood Porter
Продюсер
Peter Labberton
Peter Labberton
Миксинг-инженер

Слова

It's a bitter wind with nothing to hold onto You keep one eye on the clock, but it never slows There were days that weren't so empty Now they're a distant, fading memory Will they ever come back? No one really knows So here upon this staircase we go winding Ever upwards, blindly through the night I stand here holding mysteries While the world's repeating history And I just wish we'd one day remember it right Now the world's become a screen that screams of comfort from the fear With a stream of lies so loud and overwhelming to our ears It was built while we were dreaming, and we never would have chose it Now the dream is dead, and everybody knows it Now there's panic as the edifice is crumbling The illusion of security has dimmed Some have turned to hate and numbness But I'll be marching down Columbus Trying to build a new world with my friends Now the world's become an endless wall of cameras and guns But there's not a single mirror to reflect what we've become If there's wool that's pulled over your eye, it's my duty to expose it The dream is dead, and everybody knows it We may see no culmination in our lifetime No triumphant climax, no tidy denouement We must strip away these stories Kill our heroes, trade the glories For a peace made with one's back against the wall My eyes are wide, my heart it keeps on beating The blood and air keep rushing through my lungs You can try to crush my spirit But there's still hope, and I can hear it "When they kick at your front door, how you gonna come?" Well I'm done with pointless poetry I'm gonna say what I really mean We've got to learn to love each other before we turn into machines Our redemption song can topple walls, but first we must compose it The dream is dead, and everybody knows it
Writer(s): Max Porter Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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