Protest The Hero — Paroles et traduction des paroles de la chanson A Life Embossed

Paroles

A breed? No, a series of breeds.
It’s not a single type or a single gloss, but they’re singled out at half the
cost. Cast off and cast out and almost lost is the innocent cry of a life
embossed.
A judgment based in human error.
A snap decision made in crippling terror.
A sentence passed down from shaking hands.
Caving and twisting to frightened demands of the disillusioned masses to slap
the wrist of the «lower classes» of life.
It will be no defense, despite the nurturing influence.
The nature’s decided, the plan is divine.
If you should feel remorse anywhere inside you throughout the course of this
abomination,
you should feel grateful—grateful to feel anything at all.
You are the heartless.
You are the soulless beast.
You are trained to kill, but unwilling to bear witness.
Maybe you should concentrate on the vicious people and the alarming rate of murderers and drug dealers with whom you share no regard for life before you
set and ensnare the same victims.
Outlining the qualities by combining varied breeds. Breed specific legislation
falls flat on its only short snout.
A death squad assembled.
Why put up a fight?
The round up resembles a Crystal Night.
In relation to temperament, they pass with an overwhelming percent (86.4%).
The American pit bull v. the American dream.
The task is ours to keep our dogs and children safe. Disregard the media,
the province, or the state.
With a different target every decade or so, you can wait until they break into
your home.
Repeat the lies you’ve bought and sold and say, «You should look up the
facts» when you should look up the facts your fuckin' self.
Or you could stand for a dog that’s not your own because your own damn dog is next.
I’m proud of every pit bull, but ashamed of my own country. I oppose any
legislature that should try and stop me (from helping anyone or anything in need).
I won’t stop until they lift these ridiculous bans.
And if a pit bull is a weapon, you’ll have to pry them from my cold, dead hands.

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