Lyrics

A stern-faced man sat on a hill, and with addiction in hand He sought to kill He fell on the masses, unyielding from above And tore away from me the ones I love How can I not be angry at what you've taken from me? I see their heads bent low with this affliction How can I believe? Substance makes the man, and substance made me, too But I fail to understand why it has such a hold on you When I look in your eyes, so strong is the hate for the sickness That brought you in and the reason we can't relate