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Black Hearts

from Still Life by The New Warden

/

lyrics

I can't comprehend the chants and incantations
the white-knuckle grip on the talismans that let them sleep at night
So well-rehearsed at manipulating chapter and verse
Conviction in a fiction, untested and unquestioned

Black hearts, the mold you were cut from wasn't so empty and scared
Black hearts, denying the rage in your soul

As TV crews came to document a protest around a flag-draped casket
I saw a shit-spewing horde holding signs and chanting slogans
Preaching all of their perversions as camera's apertures swallowed the scene
Descending on a family, preying on their grief

Black hearts, the mold you were cut from wasn't so empty and scared
Black hearts, denying the rage in your soul

I hope your doctrine lands on salted soil
I hope its roots shrivel and die
There'll be no eulogies for your kind

credits

from Still Life, released June 27, 2012

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