Death Of An Era - Tyrannicide

Текст песни

Life is no game of chess
We are not your pawns
So fight your own wars
Your soldiers are revolting
We are revolting
You’ve sent countless men onto your battlefields, to keep your hands clean
All under the guise that they will make their countries proud, but die for
nothing
Now listen, in the streets, there is a battle cry, we’re coming for your head
Our retribution is at hand, and we’re taking our pound of flesh
From time to time, the tree of liberty must be refreshed
With the blood of patriots and tyrants
Now the time has come for your blood to spill
The thundering sound of your head landing in the dirt
Will resonate in the ear of every patriot
You can run and you can hide
But your death is just a matter of time
Hell opens
To welcome you as its prize.
This is tyrannicide.
From time to time, the tree of liberty must be refreshed
With the blood of patriots and tyrants