American Whore

Eric Clayton

Compositor: Não Disponível

They bought my silence, they sold my grief
Pray for me… Pray for me

They sold me hatred, they sold me greed
They sold me violence and heresy

They left me broken, they left me shamed
They gave me something to quiet the pain

They brought me tyrants and industry
They bought the crime and perversion of me
They dealt illusions of healers and thieves
They pumped me full of delusions and dreams

I’m down on my knees to worship at the
Altar of my disease… She opens the door

I’m down on the floor with my American whore
She’s got me, she’s got me begging for more

She’s got me chasing it, she’s got me clean
She’s got me strung out and in between

She sold my sacrifice, she sold my soul to vice
She stole my name to seal the pain of a thousand lives

Tear down the vacant messiah
The fallen nation in rust
Burn down the sacred asylum in lust
They sold us out, they sold in God we trust

In God we trust, it’s all in dust, it’s all of us

We all know the maker, we all know the score
I’m down on the floor with my American whore

To love her or leave her, or take her to war
I’m down on the floor with my American whore

I’ve worn out my faces, I’ve torn at the sores
I’m down on the floor with my American whore

She breathes, she bleeds, she needs and she feeds
She’s got me… She’s got me begging for more

I’m down on the scene… I’m displaced, it seems
I’m lost in the American dream