Blank stares into dead space
Little worriers checking heart rates
Dressed to witness the fitness
Becoming everything she hates me
Old friends in new beds
Old dolly’s without heads
Playing make believe to make up the numbers
Demons making hay whilst sanity slumbers
A sick joke the weak call fate
A fallen Angel sick of sucking grace
Reached his goal and got swole
Know your role and burn the place
Bones picked clean over every flaw
Can’t cut out the rotten from my core
Can’t erase and retake my mistakes
Might as well eat it and have your cake
End times tick on a broken clock
And the gates of Eden are a no go
Born beneath the scorn of a black sun
I’m a clown having fun like Pogo
Consuming a piece of me in every bite
Reduced function call me human-lite
A product of a factory without heart
What’s left when the world is ripped apart
