Fourteen years away, who am I to say
Fourteen miles a day, crawling through the maze
Basic intuition to suffer and make suffer
Communication by means of cremation
Time's right for us to take our chances
Vile hearts and soiled minds
Once desperate to be seen
Now running from the light
And it's finally time for me to take my chances
Frail heart, noble mind
I was once striving to be yours
Now begging to be mine
Past versions of myself staring me down
Mocking me for the mess I have made, for the mess I've become
Every word is armament
Every gaze is violence
Breathless ascension brought down by abstract laws
Propelling me down, the ground won't stop us
Burn the bodies down, burn the bodies down
Say his name and count to ten
Burn the parish down, burn them all alive
Wives and children, thieves and kings
Rise, rise
Put me to the test
Stand upon my chest
Rise, rise
Bury the waste
Bury the waste and wait
Fourteen steps away, source of my dismay
Fourteen times a day, keeping me at bay
Basic intuition to suffer and make suffer
Self-preservation by means of sedation
There's nothing to steal and there's no-one to save
No mouth to feed and no hand to take
Now there's nothing to hear but chimes, there's nobody near
Blind there's nothing to see you're blind, there's nothing to fear
Distant tongues berating me in dialects I don't understand
How long has it been dark outside?
I thought it would be over within a year
Bury the waste, bury the waste
Frail heart and noble mind: The defects in my design
Put me to the test, stand upon my chest
Colors turn to numbers, my truth now concealed in the ground
At last I get to take my chances and become one of them
Shedding loneliness by remaining alone
Spending my days burying the waste