Texty:
Esqarial Inheritance

Before the dust falls down The fury turns to peace A figure stoops under weight of the crown Looking for target to spread deadly disease There's

[INSTRUMENTAL]

Gust of wind on my face as I strut Dust in throat mile by mile Everlasting wanderer Doomed to the eternal exile Running blindly to the goal That

surgical precision My mystery Obscure as much as my sins I made the most of the chance So I leave you my inheritance

Balancing on the edge of a dream Unfamiliar faces passing me by when I'm tottering Behind the wooden door the smell of dust and mould In the shade

In the shade of skyscrapers Live the children of crisis Their minds are absorptive Fed with empty promises Catch the falling knife In captivity