| Bring it to your lips and experience the sulfur infect everything that we’ve
|
| created.
|
| Don’t twist this around.
|
| Don’t attempt to justify what we know is wrong.
|
| Tendons are torn and screams are released into a poisoned, mathematic
|
| atmosphere.
|
| We’re composing our funeral songs, note, note. |
| Note by note. |
| By note!
|
| We’re composing our funeral songs, note, note. |
| Note by note.
|
| With this I declare that tomorrow is an allusion.
|
| What if the clouds are fragments of mistakes,
|
| fabricated by the factories of our foolishness?
|
| We’re composing our funeral songs, note, note, note by note. |
| By note!
|
| We’re composing our funeral songs, note, note, note by note.
|
| Prove me wrong (x3) |