Angered the rising events of violence, a group of protesters take to the streets chanting in the name of their soil, yet ironically banging the pots and pans of another land. The metal call echoes over the sea, and brings forth a questionable explosion. The Right are directly victimized by terrorism, and the Left is left with an unknowing and uncomfortable joy.
lyrics
This is not a dream
[[We travel in packs and foam at the mouth
We hide in the corner of your life (and the South)
We scathe at skin, biting like snakes
Resorting to Patterns and holding the stakes
We crawl backwards in an armoured dirge
We can't be broken by offensive attack
We strike for the flat side of the Earth
And with it, carry the weight of the "facts"
Our boiling fever does not subside
It only burns brighter inside
Just like the skies our eyes stay fixed
Transfixed and soaring higher, we rise
We know not of what we feel
We only know its Right
We know not of what we crave
We only know to fight]]
Disasterpeace's latest game soundtrack is packed to the gills with samples, mimicking the background noise of the subways in the game. Bandcamp New & Notable Dec 29, 2016