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The dregs of the morning drift by greeting us with leaden winged despair |
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So come down |
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It clasps with crooked hands and tears at the torso, ripping the flesh |
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So come down |
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It leaves but the scum, filth of the earth, stranded poisonous |
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Soak up the arid wasteland through every fiber of my being |
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Hold on to the high crashing wave, it may be our only chance of escape |
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So come down, come down with me, it may be our only chance of escape |
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Lurking in the shadows psychological self loathing violent desire |
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Slaughter the first born the debris of joy it's all that's left |
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But this is my only chance of escape the crashing wave |
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So I'll hold on until I crumble under the weight |
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A stagnant pit of twisted bones and contorted features wrapped in flesh |
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Yet stranded to wallow between the walls of destruction |
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A vacuum created by the desolation and loss of hope a sigh |
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A sighm a fatal glance to the fading pain that crouches in the corner |
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For the night is upon us, the triumphant return of joy |
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Immortality, intensity the need to escape |
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It seems to be coming through in waves the need to escape |
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And beneath its swell the search for absolution continues it's downward spiral |
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I wade through the fifth, terminal hope |
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Its infectious this murder |
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Its infectious, this murderous circus |
