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Starts with a whisper resonating from the core of a few lost scattered souls amongst the rubble wanting more. But over time that once faint whisper has now risen to a roar, and with a volume thatâs increasing itâs now something you canât ignore. But when we all speak at once our voice will be heard. It ends with a picture of a time that is no more. Because of what we did in protest way back when we set the score. But now all Iâm simply stating is that if I hear the distant chord, I will stand up and be counted
to fight for something worth fighting for. When the dust has settled on this place that we call home, will they know of what took place here, will they know
of how weâve grown? From this solemn faint last whisper to this band of rumbling cries. We stood fast against these nightmares and pulled the wool from their eyes.
- Album:
- The Storm
- This Machine
- Ska Is Dead