Red Sands Lyrics by Clark Anne
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Blood on the sandBlood on the handsof a handful of madmanWhat a way to see the worldThrough the smeared window of a TV-ScreenTechnicolour assasinationsAssasinations that make me scared and afraidAfraid of the streets that breed malice and hatredThose with their heads bowed to the darknessThose who can't see for the glave of the lightThose without strengthWho can't raise hands yet alone gunsBecome prisoners of concienceThough not your concienceYou cheer and rejoice as life trickles awayThrough the outlets you give in the shape of a gunOur world is slipping quickly away
Blood on the sandBlood on the handsof a handful of madmanWhat a way to see the worldThrough the smeared window of a TV-ScreenTechnicolour assasinationsAssasinations that make me scared and afraidAfraid of the streets that breed malice and hatredThose with their heads bowed to the darknessThose who can't see for the glave of the lightThose without strengthWho can't raise hands yet alone gunsBecome prisoners of concienceThough not your concienceYou cheer and rejoice as life trickles awayThrough the outlets you give in the shape of a gunOur world is slipping quickly away
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