Senseless to our remains is what we have become hope is not eternal, just a fragment of despair. What is left for us? Sacrifice and misery? Our future must be reborn from our distorted past. So I stand before you on my knees and question today will our hands be washed in our own blood? We take a hold of the insides of this rotten lamb and with our final breath we utter, "how could such an evil exist?"
What's chewn through the skin of this decaying surface still fails to sew it back to the point of its bloodless arrival. The origin is now intact. Eternally plagued and awaiting revival. How can we face malevolent eyes guiding its dead to supremacy?
Have I awoken to the slightly vile stench of your breath? Could this be the reason we will never be free? I've lived by the words of the dead and I'll carve these words into your face! I will conceive despair and claim it upon each of you all.
This is my act of faith, this is no more than what I crave. No more than a faded dream, this is the path I have chose.
Until the day I stare at your face I will not become a slave to this origin.Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
