Shorn of apocryphal pride
The locks falls predicting strife
Cranium exposed
Denial of aesthetic
Push it a little farther
All of this burnt to ashes
All of this torn to rags
I don't know
What the fuck have I become?
Synapses snapping
Mortality decimated
Breakdown whiskey
Shifts hate into overdrive
Realizing
It's murder, it's Murder, it's murder
Murder of self so clean
I don't know
What the fuck have I become?
Hand reaches out
Desecrates impunity
Ripping away
Foundation's identity
Replacing with shame
Transgression mythologized
Indiscretions immortalized
Anger inflamed with dry rot
Pushing towards severance
What a bloody mess
Visit dark sites unknown
Grief lands like a ton of bricks
All of this burnt to ash
All of this torn to rags...
This lyric was posted anonymously. Not yet confirmed by Book of Metal.
