Grace, pride, tell me what's your name?
Crippled will with tomorrow's pill
'Cause I feel no pain and I can't remember who's to blame
This is not my home
This is not my home
But the source was always known
My grain
I beg, you steal, do you show me your signs of a sin
Blistered and torn by the pure and reborn
But they're just like us and remember man, they cave in
This is not my home
This is not my home
But the source was always known
My grain
This is not my home
This is not my home
But the source was always known
My grain
War stone, do you write your name in trust?
Word to the wise my instincts rise
All your heroes are gone and the proud ones have turned to dust
Seven dust
You can kill my pride but my heads still flying
My grain
My grain
My grain
My grain
My grain
My grain
My
Writer(s): P. Keenan, W. Weatherman