| From the plains of anger he has come, still hosting the virus from the thick
|
| sludge
|
| The black dust, robber of the soul, killer of the spirit.]
|
| No lust
|
| No will
|
| I vomit the soul
|
| Regurgitate the spirits here
|
| Empty shells, the hammer click
|
| So, I reload and try again… again
|
| In the mud, and down the drain
|
| I spew the crippled out
|
| I inhale and I reject
|
| I reload and I try again
|
| I can not cope, I do not see… the voices never stop
|
| I don’t feel, I’ve got no lust, I’ll carve you out of me
|
| There is a silhouette on the horizon
|
| Circles and points of view
|
| There is something wrong and vile inside
|
| Satan, guide this bullet right!
|
| Houses of humans flicker by
|
| Satations on the fucking line
|
| Fast-forward and flat
|
| Chuckle, cackle and crack
|
| Eyes are bulging in the head
|
| Feelings unreal and spirits dead
|
| No meaning to it all
|
| Hear them calling…
|
| Depraved, Deranged, Depraved
|
| I breathe the black dust deep inside
|
| I must transform again
|
| Another angle to this life
|
| It just consumes me
|
| Border walking every hour
|
| I’ve seen it coming
|
| No lust, no will, no life
|
| Isolation is complete |