This is the age of the dead.. The generation of pagan and self-led.. You can feel the bones shatter beneath our feet.. The blood of lust staining our teeth..
Fire surround, in cleansing repose. Letting the filth, like venom it flows. Scar, the mark, remind us the pain. Breaking the bones that will reach out again.
The gavel has fallen along with the rest. Are we expected to settle for this?. Bring us the plague, lead us away. Blacken tomorrow with ash of today. .
Remember the threat from which it was said. "You will reap every seed that you sow". And the tomb where you lay is the bed that you made. Be still in the pain that you wrote.
Born from the fire clean, crawling in the dirt like war. 5 years, my mother gave a voice for war.. 10, I was dead, born again with eyes for war. By 15, hate was the name of my war.
It's hard to say. That I'm back. On a straight line. . You see my path. Is in fact. Just a fault line. . It's in my blood, it's in my lungs. And it won't die.
Rebellion. Oh cheap thrills and vacant youth. Carry out your own will. Shovel deep and bury truth. Social stain, punk wreck, mother's own defect. Sing that song you know so well.
I, I see the weight of hollow death residing in you. Take now your final breath. Exhale the truth. I see the fear of nothing left. Dead fragments of youth.
Don't come on quietly when you draw near. Don't go on lightly. Don't leave me here. I wither quickly in winter's cold, but carry onward like I was told.