Create the Infinite Lyrics
| Song | Create the Infinite |
| Artist | Nevermore |
| Album | Enemies of Reality |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Dane, Loomis | |
| Listen and | |
| I'll tell you the story of our end | |
| Equate the calculation, salvation's fucking dead | |
| Learn the lesson quickly | |
| The enemies of reality bring the sickness | |
| Of cleansing genius | |
| What are we but men without eyes? | |
| Swimming through the poison of design | |
| Create the infinite and expand the question | |
| Count to number seven | |
| Your day of rest creates infection, your imperfection | |
| What are we but men without eyes? | |
| Swimming through the poison of design | |
| The waves ran as the storm came | |
| The lightning in the distance signaled the coming crushing days | |
| The sky was brooding and beautiful | |
| And the gulls sailed like recycled fragile entities | |
| The waves bled as the storm changed | |
| In the cold embrace of the unknown | |
| Not even blood could bring us warmth | |
| There is no future shock | |
| There is no god | |
| There is no fashionable deliverance | |
| What are we but men without eyes? | |
| Swimming through the poison of design | |
| What are we but men without eyes? | |
| Swimming through the poison of design |
| zuo ci : Dane, Loomis | |
| Listen and | |
| I' ll tell you the story of our end | |
| Equate the calculation, salvation' s fucking dead | |
| Learn the lesson quickly | |
| The enemies of reality bring the sickness | |
| Of cleansing genius | |
| What are we but men without eyes? | |
| Swimming through the poison of design | |
| Create the infinite and expand the question | |
| Count to number seven | |
| Your day of rest creates infection, your imperfection | |
| What are we but men without eyes? | |
| Swimming through the poison of design | |
| The waves ran as the storm came | |
| The lightning in the distance signaled the coming crushing days | |
| The sky was brooding and beautiful | |
| And the gulls sailed like recycled fragile entities | |
| The waves bled as the storm changed | |
| In the cold embrace of the unknown | |
| Not even blood could bring us warmth | |
| There is no future shock | |
| There is no god | |
| There is no fashionable deliverance | |
| What are we but men without eyes? | |
| Swimming through the poison of design | |
| What are we but men without eyes? | |
| Swimming through the poison of design |
| zuò cí : Dane, Loomis | |
| Listen and | |
| I' ll tell you the story of our end | |
| Equate the calculation, salvation' s fucking dead | |
| Learn the lesson quickly | |
| The enemies of reality bring the sickness | |
| Of cleansing genius | |
| What are we but men without eyes? | |
| Swimming through the poison of design | |
| Create the infinite and expand the question | |
| Count to number seven | |
| Your day of rest creates infection, your imperfection | |
| What are we but men without eyes? | |
| Swimming through the poison of design | |
| The waves ran as the storm came | |
| The lightning in the distance signaled the coming crushing days | |
| The sky was brooding and beautiful | |
| And the gulls sailed like recycled fragile entities | |
| The waves bled as the storm changed | |
| In the cold embrace of the unknown | |
| Not even blood could bring us warmth | |
| There is no future shock | |
| There is no god | |
| There is no fashionable deliverance | |
| What are we but men without eyes? | |
| Swimming through the poison of design | |
| What are we but men without eyes? | |
| Swimming through the poison of design |
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