Front Line Assembly Comatose

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





See the man
Bite the bullet

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