Letra de The Outlook Is Bleak
Portraits of Past
The Outlook Is Bleak
Portraits of Past
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Portraits of Past
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Blackened nothings whispered
I want this dead;
There's no more to say
I want this dead;
There's no more to say
I've found myself lacking in all
But a few necessary motives
Fastened, fastened to whitewashed terms
Polish made new, fortitude's scorn
Polished, polished, polished what was
Polished, polished that voting machine
My own private bureaucratism
False sense of security
False sense of self
Gives you ammunition
Cold minds never feel the width of separation
Cold mines refill from seizures torn today
I want this dead;
There's no more to say
I want this dead;
There's no more to say
I've found myself lacking in all
But a few necessary motives
Fastened, fastened to whitewashed terms
Polish made new, fortitude's scorn
Polished, polished, polished what was
Polished, polished that voting machine
My own private bureaucratism
False sense of security
False sense of self
Gives you ammunition
Cold minds never feel the width of separation
Cold mines refill from seizures torn today
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