Rigor mortis is the fourth stage of death
Knees continue scraping till flesh peel's off the skin
We keep climbing to our exit
Fleshy mucus ooze's and drip's
As we travel the bridge of mortal tissue
I a spect of this life, consumed by my rage
Left here to grovel in the infinite's of space
(the infinite's of space)
You were drawn into the cave we rot
As a soul sucker a wretched waste of life
Leeching on to climb away to the top
Your bone's so brittle they crackle away
Lacerations a cut in the neck
Dead
we climb
Bridge of mortal tissue x2
We seek for hope at the end of the road
clutching to loved one's before we let go
a blissful fruition we seek in the lust
to the chasm of the unjust

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