| Awakening, world suffering
|
| Twisted things empathize with nothing
|
| Trampling, screaming, uncaring
|
| He doesn’t know in which place he’s in
|
| Rusty razors cut his skin
|
| Over and over and over again
|
| Dead resolve and relentless pain
|
| Acid’s flowing within his veins
|
| Memories suppressed deep within
|
| Resurfacing, it’s growing from sin
|
| The sin of I-never-put-up-a-fight
|
| He’s looking back now: he’s wasted his life
|
| He’s creator, warden, prisoner
|
| Builder of walls around pitiful halls
|
| He built a lock so I threw away the key
|
| This is how little you mean to me
|
| Again, Again, Again, Again, and Again
|
| The spirit is void from the soul’s lonely throne
|
| There’s no meat anymore, only bone
|
| Once-was-razors cutting your skin
|
| Screaming, screaming, screaming
|
| Over and over and over again
|
| And again and again
|
| And again (repeated) |