Comatose — Front Line Assembly

Here today Gone tomorrow What's the flavor Can I borrow?

Beg or steal What's the deal? Beats for the money He's not real

Who stole by the hand Who stole by the hand

Like grains of sand We're blown away A darkening sky We fade away Feeling sorrow Don't mean a thing Fame and fortune Are everything

Bite the bullet See the man Feed his EGO (...)

No more time You feel the rhyme Afraid to speak The flavor's weak

Life is cheap No time to speak Ride the wave No sync to slave