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Black Map
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Head for the Hills
Smoke spills on a sky of lead
I feel like it's all coming down
If some chemicals could take us away
Have some clarity
And a hex on anything green
Search for escape, but haze lines the way
In one could we disappear
In all of this fevered mess
But I'm lost in at best
In machines that make machines that make machines
So
We head for the hills
Far from where chaos lives
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Such a feeling
That this is all decay
we know that we can't stay
In machines that make machines that make machines
So
We head for the hills
Far from where chaos lives
Such a feeling
That this is all decay
We know that we can't stay
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