Murder! Man on fire.
Murder! I've seen the eyes of the living dead.
It's the same old game. Survival.
The great mass play a waiting game.
Embalmed, crippled, dying in fear of pain, all sense of freedom gone.
Black sun in a white world.
Like having a black son in a white world.
I have a son, his name is Eden.
It's his birthright beyond estranged times.
Give me 69 years, another season in this [bad word] 
It's all  and death as far as eyes can tell.
Like Prometheus we are bound.
Chained to this rock of a brave new world.
Our god forsaken lot.
And I feel that's all we have ever needed to know until worlds end and the [bad word] cold
Give me 69 years, another season in this [bad word] 
There is  and death in mother natures plans