Woorden: Front Line Assembly. Epitaph. Haloed.

Peering through a window, eyes open shut
Breath turns to crystals, stuck in a rut
This fear of dissension won't bring me down
Words without meaning don't make a sound

Out cast from the living, no place to crawl
Disturbing comfort, surrender to all
Lost of innocence, a sadness falls
Somber yet unforgiving, endless walls

This fear of dissension won't bring me down
Words without meaning don't make a sound
A saint of pretension, streaming with lies
This crooked halo gleams in his eye

Sliding through the screen, fingers turning blue
Worn out shoes, perverted view
Out cast from the living, no place to crawl
Disturbing comfort, surrender to all

This fear of dissension won't bring me down
Words without meaning don't make a sound
A saint of pretension, streaming with lies
This crooked halo gleams in his eye

Out cast, out cast