We blanket ourselves.
In meditation and retrospect, we find
Our framework and spirit torn asunder.
Just look, for we've produced the best corpse.
Self interested or too weak with remorse?
We often take our hearts and hands to violence.
And stoic faces that don't reflect a thing.
From memory our hope won't fly with broken wings.
"You only breathe when you're ordered to.
Any time now we'll begin and you won't feel a thing.
You know we've been waiting for this.
So offer up the warmth within
And you won't feel a thing"
We cut off our heads in condemnation
That lends itself to hateful patterns.
Our spirits torn asunder in every way.
Produce the corpse.
Self interested or too weak with remorse?
We often take our hearts and hands to violence.
And stoic faces that don't reflect a thing.
From memory our hopes won't fly on broken angels wings
Hope won't live to sing again.
"You only breathe when you're ordered to.
Any time now we'll begin and you won't feel a thing.
You know we've been waiting for this.
So offer up the warmth within
And you won't feel a thing"
We blanket ourselves from understanding.
We cut off our heads to see the light
We all live separate ways.
We all live separate ways.
We're on our hands and knees.
We're on our hands and knees.
"You only breathe when you're ordered to.
Any time now we'll begin and you won't feel a thing.
You know we've been waiting for this.
So offer up the warmth within
And you won't feel a thing"
They are just bleeding our corpses
But then in time we'll arise. Till then
We are just living in torment.
When will the grip on us loosen?