Bent Left

The Bottom Of Barrels
we turn our backs, we leave them to drown at the bottom of barrels where they'll never be found now on with the burial, trample the ground we don't even blink rescue teams sent in with a stick offering them an end, but it's covered in shit climbing hand over hand, but they can't get a grip we don't even think we can stamp out the fire or piss gas on the flames question your fate! strand them alone on a moss covered stone or lead to a chance at a face and a name take a seat on the sidelines or strive for a change it's not too late! wishing and wanting and wasting our lives or holding our hands out for someone to take competition that overwhelms generations convinced cooperation has failed ride along on the coat tails of dominant males we accept as fate definition designed to instill that our representation is that of free will limitations in place due to absence of skill but it's not too late Aus Songtexte Mania