| The broken ways, as I walk through the emptiness
|
| Lost souls as empty as mine
|
| Barren and desolate, foreseeing the irony
|
| Abolish the self, merge into a singular space
|
| Confront the self, subduing the whim’s inside
|
| No feelings to exude and portray the sullen days
|
| As we hide from the bitterness,
|
| Embellish reality, or so your told
|
| No other way, to prepare for awakening
|
| Condense the frail ridden mind
|
| Keep without consciousness
|
| To adhere to the ending days
|
| The gods are not here for you now,
|
| Expect a dichotomy
|
| Ancient thoughts to prepare for the exodus
|
| Shutter at what knowledge will hold
|
| Sullen days searching for a singular way
|
| Now I conceive a brutal reality,
|
| Just wanting to kill
|
| Murder in mind, to silence a virus
|
| Internal struggle containing the violence
|
| Wanting to purge the earth
|
| Denying my thoughts to obtain absolution
|
| Pray for my soul to receive its ascension
|
| Sullen days as I dwell in this empty shell
|
| Hopes of redemption decline
|
| Festering hate inside as I harbor the pain within
|
| A tormented soul that’s tortured and bound
|
| God fearing agony
|
| Broken days, in my bitter reality
|
| Conform thy self, I brood within
|
| Prepare to die, as I wade through these sullen days,
|
| The know not my plans of what destiny holds
|
| What you don’t know, is silence can kill
|
| What I know is silence will manifest
|
| Hatred, brewing within me I dream of killing
|
| If thoughts could lash out, you’d all be dead
|
| Now I conceive a brutal reality,
|
| Just wanting to kill
|
| Murder in mind, to silence a virus
|
| Internal struggle containing the violence
|
| Wanting to purge the earth
|
| Denying my thoughts to obtain absolution
|
| Pray for my soul to receive its ascension
|
| Sullen days as I dwell in this empty shell
|
| Hopes of redemption decline
|
| Festering hate inside — as I harbor the pain within
|
| A tormented soul that’s tortured and bound
|
| God fearing agony
|
| Broken days, in my bitter reality
|
| Conform thy self, I brood within
|
| Prepare to die, as I wade through these sullen days,
|
| They know not my plans of what destiny holds |