Žodžiai dainai: Young Livers. Of Misery And Toil. In Rapid Succession.

It drives us from our path and suffocates
as we are gnashing teeth into the arms that press us down.
We try to recourse, redirect before we are run into the ground.
But it tears at our limbs as we breathe the disease that is our all.
We have tried to untie but misled.
Reduced to sink into the coarse our heads filled with last lights encore
Eyes turned over as we have but run into the ground
Drive down a fix to a burden we have bore
Delve deep, it has it has a grasp that tightens as we grow.

We?ve got the purpose of a vestigial organism at best,
while you?ve got the tact of a cinder block.
With the honesty of a bleached out blood stain,
we?re as bloodless as limbless mannequins.
We all make a mark, like undetected accelerants,
like last week?s obituaries.