New Dead Project - The Blame


Plastic laws written in the name of justice
Are just damned words of industrial heart's-ease
"The Hands of Man", are The Tools of Destruction.
At the dead-end of this labyrinth of evolution
The blame is mine. The blame is yours. The blame is ours.
Still We are the resort. For future tomorrows.

Do you speak the language of existence?
Are you up to make a difference?
Do you speak the language older than words?
Will you make it better or worse?

Vultures coming from the depths of hell
Are the only ones left in the end to tell
In the wretched tongue of the misanthrope
The last tale of catastrophe and fall.

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