Album: Let Our Violins Be Heard (2005)

White Chapel

We?ve sent our own on a mission
We vote our sons to die
Well I can never fucking fathom
Anybody's savior sending them to murder a nation
Start a rebellion if you please
Well I please
As I bring out your dead

This air has aged with such stagnance
As we uphold and behold
Those whom have belayed these molds
The molds in which we're forced to fit
The molds our people have been slaved with
The molds our children will be plagued with
In a world knee deep in bodies this air represents inevitability

Rebel, rebel, yell, rebel, hands up
Self govern or hop aboard with the impostors
I feel this notion hath wait
But I feel this notion has taken its toll on us
Rebel, rebel, yell, rebel, hands up

Divorce all prior existence
Acknowledge the thought that there might be something more
The more before the board had been built
The pieces no mold
Inevitable destruction with no instruction
Lets give unto the man, as he has given unto us
Bring the metal
Who brings the metal?
The dead bring the metal

Thou shalt not be bent over
Thou shalt not further this crusade
We?ll sail our ships into your mother fucking icebergs

Rebel, rebel, yell, rebel, hands up
Self govern or hop aboard with the impostors
I feel this notion hath wait
But I fear this notion has taken its hold on us
Rebel, rebel, yell, rebel, hands up

Thou shalt not follow in their way
Thou shalt not further this crusade
Head stones a row, fall in line
As I bring out your dead

Thou shalt not further this crusade..
We?ll sail our ships into your mother fucking icebergs