Portraits of the Poor - Mushroomhead

Finger painting pictures

Of this sad existence

Fixed with stitches none the richer

You could never call me poor

Bled out the old me

Family does not know me now

Someone better show me how to live

Now the times nigh in the night sky

How can you walk away

This is your lifetime

Don’t let them break you

Let this torture be exposed

Can you paint me a picture

A portrait of your soul

All the discarded and the broken

All they martyrs and the orphaned

All the soldiers and sovereign

All the sisters of the fallen

There’s a bad moon in the rear-view

And a blood son on the horizon