Rifflifters of the world, unite, and bend over,
Now that the horse is gone, who's left to sing his songs?
The perfect beat does not exist.
I resonate the sound of ashes engulfing your lungs.
I steal, I feel, I breathe.
Bad artists copy but the good ones steal.
The right sound, the right measure,
Throw out your chest just to feel this pressure
And it beats back, and it beats back
And it beats back, and it beats back
The right sound, the right measure,
Throw out your chest just to feel this pressure
And it comes pouring in, and it comes pouring in
And it comes pouring in, and it comes pouring in
The right sound, the right measure,
Throw out your chest just to feel this pressure
And it beats back, and it beats back
And it beats back, and it beats back
The right sound, the right measure,
Throw out your chest just to feel this pressure
And it comes pouring in, and it comes pouring in
And it comes pouring in, and it comes pouring in
Now that the horse is gone, who's left to sing his songs?
The perfect beat does not exist.
I resonate the sound of ashes engulfing your lungs.
I steal, I feel, I breathe.
Bad artists copy but the good ones steal.
The right sound, the right measure,
Throw out your chest just to feel this pressure
And it beats back, and it beats back
And it beats back, and it beats back
The right sound, the right measure,
Throw out your chest just to feel this pressure
And it comes pouring in, and it comes pouring in
And it comes pouring in, and it comes pouring in
The right sound, the right measure,
Throw out your chest just to feel this pressure
And it beats back, and it beats back
And it beats back, and it beats back
The right sound, the right measure,
Throw out your chest just to feel this pressure
And it comes pouring in, and it comes pouring in
And it comes pouring in, and it comes pouring in