Texty: Easton Legacy. Traitors Of The Lost Ark.

Brother bears the weight of the world on his shoulders but he never
lifts a hand

The small-time thief has crowned himself king in his head.
Sacrifice is a four-letter word in this holier than town
We are but self-appointed saints at war amongst ourselves.

Hey there, you can run your mouth off
All night long, but soon you'll savor every word as you choke them
down.
A meal fit for a traitor; a serpent-tongued sycophant and all along
continue to convince yourself that you've done no wrong.

Loaded words; cocked and spouting venom profusely like a wound. You
decay us everytime you open up your mouth.
As much as we love to torturing ourselves, we'll gladly carry on
without
you. Sayonara. Cut your losses. Au revoir.

Embrace the lie, consume the pain, accept this as your fate, or cover
up
with pleasantries while you burst with jealous rage.

We've all made peace with who we are, there's no one left to blame. So

Sew your lips shut if it will help you to stop dropping our name

Ignore the truth or just walk away (any day now, any day now)

They'll be no call; no need for you to stay (any day now, any day now)

Hey there, you can run your mouth off all night long. But soon you'll
savor every word as you choke them down.
A meal fit for a traitor; a serpent-tongued, sycophant and all along
you'll keep telling yourself that you have done no wrong