| Hell rains upon me
|
| With the reigns of atomic end
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| It doesn’t matter what I believe
|
| Cause in the end it’s all about the means
|
| These winds are no longer safe for breathing
|
| They convey the fatal blow
|
| But a vessel that special delivers its poisons
|
| They’re flowing straight into my lungs
|
| I should have know that it would end this way
|
| But I was locked up, shut down, shoving it all away
|
| I was in denial
|
| And now know you’re all guilty too
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| You’re all fucking guilty
|
| There’s a sickness in my body
|
| Every pore, every aperture, an avenue
|
| For the life to escape it’s host
|
| Everything I touch I leave my husk behind
|
| Empty bones and undertones of fumes that sear my soul
|
| I’ll repair these tattered lungs
|
| With a drop of cyanide upon my tongue
|
| I’m too sick to move
|
| I’m too weak to make it through
|
| The soil I lay upon has been polluted with the truth
|
| And I’m too sick to move
|
| Arms made of lead along with a shortness of breath
|
| Brought on by armies of dead men
|
| With no sense of regret
|
| There’s a sickness in my body
|
| Every pore, every aperture, an avenue
|
| For the life to escape it’s host
|
| Everything I touch I leave my husk behind
|
| Empty bones and undertones of fumes that sear my soul
|
| I’ll repair these tattered lungs
|
| With a drop of cyanide upon my tongue
|
| Now my lungs, are filled with a creeping dose of
|
| Bitter disgust, for the world I used to trust
|
| The world has yet to see, what can truly be unleashed
|
| When you fuck with the, intercontinental travesty |