Its the blood; this bad blood,
This rotten sway unbearable.
Corrupt till the soul,
Senile and rusted abode.
This peace we are dieing for,
This love we are longing,
was never within the bad blooded pores.
Let it out,
It hasn’t breathe,
You kept it under the lamp of hate,
Its just grown into garden of weed.
Let the flavors of truth flow in them,
Not the angel of death through the needle. With helpless screams.
Don’t let the bonds of blood be broken away, for the ingenuity of need.
The end will be the fall of todays grim reap,
Its hard to hear but we taken this slow death granted as peace.
Our own hearts pumps this impure prays, longing by the greed and hate.
And yet the hypocrisy within us let us live in flames of unfathomed fate.
Let this bad blood breathe,
This bad blood, its not what you need.
Oh Ru The Soul ©®™