| I’ve been losing purpose
|
| For chasing sunlight
|
| Only in darkness
|
| The answers I find
|
| Reason and policies aren’t enough for me to follow suit,
|
| Stand in line, our death march not far behind
|
| Existence is our disease
|
| Begging for power
|
| Found bleeding at the altar,
|
| Worshiping trash-morals and thieves
|
| Decisions and reactions,
|
| Blind faith in our circumstance,
|
| We’re slowly growing cold,
|
| Blackened hearts and a hollow soul
|
| Hanging by our fucking necks,
|
| Choking on our regrets
|
| Hanging by our fucking necks,
|
| Choking on our disease
|
| And we’re bled fucking dry |