Текст песни Wounded - The Real

Take your instruments of war
Burn down your stars
And create a whole new sky
Before everyone discovers your lie

All the fuckers that cast their spell
And wished for me a bitter hell
I wish to thank you for your words
There is nothing more to hurt
Not your evil and your wicked heart
Could kill the truth in my honest art
Nothing else can strike me dead
Only the creativity in my head

When the fire is at your feet
Not a knife thrown yet and you already bleed
Preachers of reality,
It is all but real I see
Oh watch over my head,
Cause the bitch of live went mad