| The right of callous goes to malice | |
| Molder in the grave | |
| The scene to witness inner fitness | |
| Leaves without a wave | |
| To turn about inside the outer | |
| Layer that we save | |
| Becomes apparent when we wear it | |
| Such is the beauty that you gave | |
| You hypnotize my bloodshot eyes | |
| The night life's latest craze | |
| They twist their shouts and jump about | |
| Our memory isn't fazed | |
| By documentors' recent ascent | |
| Into freakish phase | |
| Remember that we are the purpose | |
| Of the human race | |
| And oh so slowly | |
| Turn to show me | |
| Where our points | |
| Are shaved | |
| To them that simply | |
| See us empty | |
| But for not our | |
| Amber waves of sin | |
| A dialogue is half created | |
| Out of our own words | |
| We like the texture and pretend | |
| That this we haven't heard | |
| Its up to here in good defense | |
| Another loss is cruel | |
| But some how with the help of | |
| Pills, I remain a pillar calm | |
| Lets guess the number of regrets | |
| Our good life will acquire | |
| There seems to be some small | |
| Discrepancy between the truth and lie | |
| But somehow we should work around the better half of dead | |
| Wake up wake up my little one | |
| My little sleepy head |
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