WHEN DID OVER THIRST FOR THE FUTILE BEGIN. THE ANGST BECKONED REIGN OF THE WORTHLESS WE'RE IN. MORE TIME SPENT IN WASTE FUELS THE IDEALS OF DEMAND. THEY EXIST FOR OUR NEED OF THEIR NOTHING AT HAND. WHEN DOES THE COST OF THIS FEEDING DEFY, THE LEVEL OF THOUGHT THAT IT TAKES TO DECIDE, FORSAKE THE MEANINGLESS IN LIFE. WANT BLINDED EYES THAT LOST OUR VOICE. BOUNDLESS INDECISION KEEPS US EASILY SOLD. WHEN THE CARCASS OS SELF IS NOT YET COLD. WHEN DOES THE COST OF THIS FEEDING DEFY, THE LEVEL OF THOUGHT THAT IT TAKES TO DECIDE. WITH ONE HAND WE SEEK TO DIVIDE WITH TWO HAND WE COULD CHOOSE TO STAND AND SURVIVE. THEIR EASY WAY OUT WE CONSUME TIL DECAY AS THE GODS OF OUR IGNORANCE DEFINE US AS PREY YOU ARE NOTHING AT HAND!
This lyric was posted anonymously. Not yet confirmed by Book of Metal.
