Void of Silence Human Antithesis, Pt. 1: The Dream Ends/Pt. 2: Empty Prayers/Pt. 3: Black Propaganda Lyrics

This is where the dream ends
where the soul of every man and woman is broken
where you carry your crippled children in hope of salvation
and you will lay them down to die
for salvation does not come
And the worth you have placed upon your life is finally revealed as nothing (x2)

Your weeping and wailing shall a__uage no god
let these words echo deep, deep into your heart
cease your weeping and wailing
no one can hear you
no one can hear you
my words will cut your flesh like a knife.
for you shall hear them again
and again (x5)
you will hear these words again and again and again

You can pray to God
You can pray to Allah
You can pray to whomever
He will not hear you
your empty prayers
you embarrass yourself
like some infected junkie
you're searching for a fix.
Your God is a needle
Your God is rusted razor
the filth in your blood
the filth in your vein

No machine will grind your bones to dust

This machine will grind your bones to dust
Like it has ground every generation before you
and only now the stakes are higher
and only now the machine runs faster

Children, I call you to war
was it for this your ancestors died?
Was it for this the land was stained blood red.
Here and now we face the end of all things,
the final and the absolute.
Planting seeds within
the nuclear generation, planting hope where there was none.
A hope that we may sweep all before us and crush their memory.

They say there is nothing left in this world worth fighting for, nothing left in this world worth dying for...
This is a lie.
There is so much to fight for, so much to die for.
There is one true enemy in this world.
Do i need to say it?
Do I need to stain the air with it's name?
Or to soil the page?

A father he sees his children cry out,
And blind they flock, dead to the world.
He sees his women, wailing and weeping.
The mothers of all tragedy
And I your brother, a broken man,
I curse the day I was born.
I curse the day

I ask, what price the martyred man?
Whose hand is turned by the grinding wheels of history?
I ask a simple question.
Who shall stand and who shall fall?
Whose deeds shall become song,
and whose words shall become law?

See also:

112
112.118
Paco Ibañez Nunca fui a Granada Lyrics
Kaukazus Celeb Lyrics