The Heretic (The Lost Child) - W.A.S.P.

These fits of depression are torturing me The lives that I seen won’t breathe again

A sad child of madness, they’ll never be free

Born again to die, the agonies begin

And soldiers keep coming — like warriors

they die

But gangland’s alive when mothers cry

Cause hate’s blind addictions, a killing

machine

And it burns on the fuel of shattered

lives — lost child, lost child

The seeds of all evil are sown in their

minds

And harvest the sad fields of woe

Cause dead boys are martyrs

That live on forever

But now it’s too late for their souls

Standing on sanities too fragile edge

And worship the «Lord of the Flies «And wade through the slaughter

You’ve made of thy brother

And drown in his blood then when he dies

You see in their eyes

They’re the lost child

See in their eyes

You see in their eyes

They’re the lost child

See in their eyes

Don’t turn out the lights