Existence... the poetry of the flesh which we will trust from conception to dust Just another body - a temple of shit Filled with the trash that we dump in it
This house possessed with sins of the flesh Instinctive desire to procreate multiplying our mess Another series of holes of which we're to fill Mortal receptacles pumped full of seminal swill
A familiar stranger... To walk this earth is to always be in danger
A complete and utter objectification of a sentient being An earthly trait of intellectual superiority
Born in a hate manger Lined with extreme angst and a broken chemistry
That familiar stranger Mourning our minds With an answer to the riddle you'll never find
Fertile are the loins of the earth The soil womb to which we return Sharpened societal femurs Our swords to fall on
What makes you think you're so sublime among the others that are standing in line? ... Waiting for their time
We are only vessels that leave a stain that lasts forever The toppled cup of skin that spills a poison with no half measure
We... we are only bodies Survived by guilt and the neurosis of entitlement Like insects... so are the days of our lives With a vastly finite duration With eons of habitual infestation
But I... I'm just a body Alive but rotting A storm of flies that hides behind these eyes
I'm just a body 8 billion like me Burning our hive Scorched alive
And you... you're just a body Flesh-lined tragedy Dead but alive Remembering a time within our lives... in our history Life in our prime A fiction of the mind Lying to ourselves, blind
We are just bodies Insect parodies Burning our hive Remembering the crime that is our lives... that's our history Life in our prime Reflection of a time where all is left behindTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
