| Walk through the ashes of man
|
| Skin like fields on fire
|
| Pain is only a weakness
|
| Death is just an escape
|
| We are connected like tissue
|
| Feed on the shame you’ve raised
|
| Why continue the harvest?
|
| We are already dead
|
| No one, can reap, these scars, we’ve sown
|
| No one, can reap, these scars, we’ve sown
|
| There is no morning sun
|
| No falling rain
|
| For acres of skin
|
| Wait! |
| Can you hear the machines?
|
| Gears that cultivate flesh
|
| Why continue the harvest?
|
| We are already dead
|
| No one, can reap, these scars, we’ve sown
|
| No one, can reap, these scars, we’ve sown
|
| There is no morning sun
|
| No falling rain
|
| For acres of skin
|
| All I want and wish for
|
| Is to end this suffering
|
| All alone and unaware
|
| All primed up for dying
|
| Without face, without mind
|
| Without dreams, without memory
|
| Without face, without mind
|
| Without dreams, without memory
|
| There is no morning sun
|
| No falling rain
|
| For acres of skin
|
| There is no morning sun
|
| No falling rain
|
| For acres of skin |