|
Blackened laughter, what we're after |
|
Winds of change will, bring disaster |
|
Broken limbs will, lie in ashes |
|
Legions form from dying masses |
|
Pain... never-ending pain... |
|
Limbs of clay will drift away |
|
What's insane will stay the same |
|
Waves of pain will cure the brain |
|
Connect our veins to the lake of decay |
|
Life after life, reborn revived |
|
The living die, but the dead survive |
|
Yellow fingers reach for the sky |
|
From decay, the dead will rise |
|
Spread the plague, await the grave |
|
Within our shells, spirits depraved |
|
In this form, fate demands |
|
Death will form where we lay our hands |
|
Limbs of clay will drift away |
|
What's insane will stay the same |
|
Waves of pain will cure the brain |
|
Connect our veins to the lake of decay |
|
Our broken frames that bare affliction |
|
And tearless eyes that seek salvation |
|
We grind our teeth, and bleed infection |
|
We see our fate in the lake's reflection |
|
The curse of the wretched |
|
The breathless, and sickened |
|
To crawl below heaven |
|
And writhe with the wicked |
|
Casket bound, in tattered skin |
|
I ache to let the maggots in |
|
I don't deserve this |
|
I crack the surface |
|
Draining blood, in flesh of canvass |
|
Armies march with static eyes |
|
Wondering if we're alive |
