|
Sloth is the enemy of greatness |
|
Reflection a scalpel to my mind. |
|
We strive as you leisurely criticize |
|
A free ride until you find that you've dug your own grave |
|
Lie by lie. |
|
Just a running mouth |
|
Poison words you throw about |
|
Drag you to your end |
|
The number six |
|
Leviathan. |
|
You've dug your own grave with your spite |
|
You've dug your own grave lie by lie |
|
A cancer that needs to be cut out |
|
Sweet slander the razor to your throat |
|
Trim the fat |
|
A loose end to be tied up and cast aside |
|
Left to find that you've dug your own grave. |
|
A relentless imposition by a self-fulfilling travesty |
|
From one who is just rotting there |
|
In slut's wool and zero history |
|
Aesthetic condemning |
|
Erratic condescending |
|
An empty barrel always makes the most noise |
|
And I begin to feel my hands around your throat. |
|
You've dug your own grave with your spite |
|
You've dug your own grave lie by lie |
|
A running mouth and poison words will be your end |
|
The number six |
|
Leviathan. |