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It infiltrates insidious, it feints at love |
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Betrays our trust in what we've known |
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Since we were born the truth we've found in all we see |
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Points to design, still our chests swell |
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We'll never find true answers from a wishing well |
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So feed us all another lie to still our thoughts |
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Appease our pride so we wont have |
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To chance the way we see we live we love we die |
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Our lusts precede our blasphemy |
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Our logic reads like notes from tainted autopsy |
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Our souls they speak of something more |
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But we can't look beyond ourselves |
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We implore empty skies because |
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Our heats hold room for no one else |
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We extend our claws to grasp at shadows of the |
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Ideals we have lost causalities of a subtle dagger |
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Buried to the hilt in our hearts blood on our hands |
