Bruce Dickinson

These are the pictures
These are the feelings from the front line
Living in silence
Feeling the deafness like heavy smoke
Smiling with strangers
Counting the days like a spring coiled up inside
Welcome to your future
Welcome to your book of lies
Fingers crawl through pages
Nothing changes, living here
Inertia - no wish to move at all
Inertia - everythings a stone wall
Inertia - history lets you die
A ragged pile of silent accusers
Smell the blood of strangers here