Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Sound


Interface


Difficulty level


Accent



interface language

en

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie policy   |   Support   |   FAQ
1
register / login
Lyrkit

donate

5$

Lyrkit

donate

10$

Lyrkit

donate

20$

Lyrkit

And/Or support me in social. networks:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Protest The Hero

Plato's Tripartite

 

Plato's Tripartite

(album: Volition - 2013)


I forgot to thank you for the blood you shed, and your obligatory
contribution to the community. Are you just dense or so fucking inbred
you think that all is forgiven and all is forgotten? But forgive them of
nothing, despite their impunity. Oh how the system fails you completely
when monstrous children get treated so sweetly. The violence is praised,
the decision cemented (they seem like nice kids). Crimes go committed,
but never lamented (that doesn't change what they did). That's when
they lock up an innocent victim. The only thing that's more broken
than her spirit is the system. They lock up femininity, infected with the
illusion that choice is free. You made your bed when you were born
in your bones, so lay back, sweetheart, in a body you only sometimes
own. Lay back upon cold concrete floors and rest your drunken soul.
What more could a lady ask for than to be treated like a hole? Oh how
the system fails you completely when monstrous children get treated
so sweetly. Standing before you in suit and tie, don't they just look so
nice? Well-practiced tears come to their eyes, “I guess their remorse will
suffice.” That's when they lock up your bones, and femininity infected
with the illusion that choice is free. Freedom is delicate, cracking under
abject catastrophe. Stronger than his prison bars are the bars around
her memory. It's irrelevant, her relation to me. No one is innocent if they
go free. When we hand raise the beast, and the beast runs wild, we must
speak of our own involvement in the r ape of a child.

done

Did you add all the unfamiliar words from this song?