Lyrics
Lying awake in the dead of night, it's maddening silence screaming. Why do I have faith to move mountains, but not the love to move my heart. Toil the fallow ground of souls, hand to plow, sweat to soil. Every name bears a face, touch those that have No Place To Stand. An autumn chill dances on my blind, and lightly creeps across my skin. Or it's the thought of those who've gone before, silenced by Death, consumed in their sin. Toil the fallow groung of souls, hand to plow, sweat to soil. Every name bears a face, touch those that have No Place To Stand. That which I couldn't do, I don't, while that I should not, I do.
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