Texty:
Cold As Life Who Holds The Truth

we die. Knowing, unknowing, our savior in the sky betray. Betrayed, still unknow. Faith or faked, the question still grows. Blasphomy, Reality. Who holds

me coming. Cold reigning king, Hold all the secrets from you As they produce the movement. Even Siberia goes through the motions. Hold out and hold up; Hold

motel Tellin them broads about my furniture and jewels Work on my table and how holding my clientel Damn do it hit the spot As pretty as you is no more

is for all of my niggas that are RIP s You ain't missin' of life, ain't what this should be I pass a car soon, who know who's the enemy Lots of shit

respect it, but I don't get down with the fuzz I don't drink with DT's I don't hang with the judge But truth be truth and I got the proof Most ministers

left my side I hold your stiffened body so close to me For years I've lived in a dream Awake, I felt as dead as my cold and bloodless bride to me I

amateur, who dared to challenge the Clansman, holding a sword like excalibur Truth is my shield, show and prove I reveal Reality, a coldness the heart can feel Livin life

hammer Turn the priest into a shell of a man That priest was putting up the fight of his life But he was old and he was bound to lose The boyfriend hit as hard as

is you could fill in the blanks with truth like mad-libs. This is the snaps inch and if you asks me, realities a floor model. You take it as is, but