of your self doubt. Step up and face the day. Stand up and alert the blame. Engulfed in flames. Rececitate. Back to life. Bear no shame
"An Ancient Inherited Shame" by Dark Angel Femininity, a sacred life My goals and dreams achieved, or soon they might Unintruded being, innocent
wiped the calf's blood from her lips. * "Proud to be British" said Margaret Thatcher As she wiped the Falkland's blood from her hands. * The ruling
can't hear What of these millions And this pain they must bear? Never to hear, never to see From the shadows Breaking the silence they kill In cold blood
the whip And you'll all shake your hips And you'll all dance to this without making a fist And I know that it sounds mundane but it's a stone cold shame
beared For our time was taken with treasure Oh, life was a game, and work was a shame And pain was prevented by pleasure The world, cold and gray, was
beared, for our time was taken with treasure. Oh, life was a game, and work was a shame, And pain was prevented by pleasure. The world, cold and grey
bearer carry me burning home from another tour Go ahead put your red dress on Days of white robes have come and gone Come and gone Oh you rivers, oh you waters run Come bear
Antoinette As she wiped the calf's blood from her lips. * "Proud to be British" said Margaret Thatcher As she wiped the Falkland's blood from her hands
to you In my hour of shame, twisting, turning blind, deaf. Waif-like and thinning (Go. Run away) Don't look back until your eyes bear the strain of new
all are sad. We war against each other and we fight with our own souls And we've killed off every river and our blood is icy cold But a spark of joy
to you In my hour of shame, twisting, turning blind, deaf. Waif-like and thinning (Go. Run away) Don't look back until your eyes bear the strain of
full of pictures and greatness on my back It's a shame to die without blood on my hands So I bear my sword to the ground and I prayed On cold winds
Marie Antoinette As she wiped the calf's blood from her lips. * "Proud to be British" said Margaret Thatcher As she wiped the Falkland's blood from her
can't be right The pain that your thrust brings I don't want your flesh I'm not your whore But you want my blood I'm not a whore Trapped down here inside
rivers all are sad. We war against each other and we fight with our own souls And we've killed off every river and our blood is icy cold But a spark
