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Dm Death's breath on the back of our neck. The bitter taste of blood, flowing in floods Dm Consuming all the rations, neglect is a crime of passion Dm I don't believe we've earned our keep or deserve this peace, self centered catastrophes Dm Armies of fools will fall. Nights of no end. Writing on the wall Dm Gm Am Gm War is now the will of your God. The prophets hands are stained Dm Gm Am Gm War is now the will of your God. Heads Will Hang Dm All hail the antiheroes. Life reduced to ones and zeros. Expand and expire. Voices of reason retire Dm The threat is real, when you can feel the pain they feel. The writing?s on the wall Dm Gm Am Gm War is now the will of your God. The prophets hands are stained Dm Gm Am Gm War is now the will of your God. Heads Will Hang Dm Gm Am Gm Soul Seller. Fortune Teller. Plague Bearer Dm Gm Am Gm Dm Gm Am Gm The fog won't lift. These comforts are counterfeit. The kings of shame stretch the divide Dm Gm Am Gm Dm Gm Am Gm The pieces never fit. First world counterfeits. The great collapse now justified Dm Gm Am Gm Peace is merely a gift for the privileged, safeguarded from the pain Dm Gm Am Gm This indifference is paid in blood. All hands are stained Dm Gm Am Gm The grip of oppression tightens the noose, but when they kick out the chair, heads will hang Dm Gm Am Gm War is now the will of your God.
Written by Will Putney
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