Texty: Angel Dust. To Dust You Will Decay. Stranger.

Somewhere on a border
forced to march in line and order
looo men in greedy hands
Lured with hope for future
pressed in contracts
leaving them no chance
but to leave their land
They're nameless young men
bleeding their hands
on the edge of life
and they feel the hate
treated like slaves
There's a shanty village
where they are folded in dirt
dirt and a mess
intimidations breaking
the free will of men
free will of men
free will of men