| I did my time and I want out, so effusive
|
| Fade, it doesn’t cut, the soul is not so vibrant
|
| The reckoning, the sickening
|
| Packaging, subversion, pseudo-sacrosanct perversion
|
| Go drill your deserts, go dig your graves
|
| Then fill your mouth with all the money you will save
|
| Sinking in, getting smaller again
|
| Undone, it has begun, I’m not the only one
|
| And the reign will kill us all
|
| We throw ourselves against the wall
|
| But no one else can see
|
| The preservation of the martyr in me
|
| Psychosocial, psychosocial, psychosocial
|
| Psychosocial, psychosocial, psychosocial
|
| There are cracks in the road we lay
|
| From where the devil fell, the secrets have gone mad
|
| This is nothing new, but when we killed it all
|
| The hate was all we had
|
| Who needs another mess, we could start over
|
| Just look me in the eyes and say I’m wrong
|
| Now there’s only emptiness
|
| Venomous, insipid
|
| I think we’re done, I’m not the only one
|
| And the reign will kill us all
|
| We throw ourselves against the wall
|
| But no one else can see
|
| The preservation of the martyr in me
|
| Psychosocial, psychosocial, psychosocial
|
| Psychosocial, psychosocial, psychosocial
|
| The limits of the dead!
|
| The limits of the dead!
|
| The limits of the dead!
|
| The limits of the dead!
|
| Fake anti facist lies
|
| (Psychosocial)
|
| I tried to tell you but
|
| (Psychosocial)
|
| Your purple hearts are giving out
|
| (Psychosocial)
|
| Can’t stop a killing idea
|
| (Psychosocial)
|
| If it’s hunting season
|
| (Psychosocial)
|
| Is this what you want?
|
| (Psychosocial)
|
| I’m not the only one
|
| And the reign will kill us all
|
| We throw ourselves against the wall
|
| But no one else can see
|
| The preservation of the martyr in me
|
| And the reign will kill us all
|
| We throw ourselves against the wall
|
| But no one else can see
|
| The preservation of the martyr in me
|
| The limits of the dead!
|
| The limits of the dead! |