(B. Dickinson/ A. Dickson)
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...
CHORUS:
Inertia, no wish to move at all
Inertia, everything's a stone wall
Inertia, history lets you die
A ragged pile of silent accusers
Smell the blood of strangers here
No eyes, no ears, no smell, no taste
The mouth of the maggot is full in this place
Murdered conscience, the pressure is crushing heads
like paper lanterns now
Unbreakable grip, a dead hand driving us forward to the end
Kicking through traces a thousand years from now
Inertia, no wish to think at all
Inertia, everything's a stone wall
Inertia, history lets you die
SOLO
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