Cast away my skin and bones.
I wonder when they'll find my ghost.
Cryptic messages found in everything you hold.
Is this the cost of a bath in another's tepid blood?
May nothing last?
May nothing ever be sacred?
Cast away my skin and bones.
I wonder when they'll find my ghost.
Disregard the long hours, the lack of windows, and the overseer.
When it's over, when it's 18 in the ground and we call this fair, what can't be justified?
It's never over, anarchy is dead and what a miserable funeral.
Wake up.
Disregard your aching fingers, your starving family and a visit from the CEO.
When it's over, when it's the money exchanging hands so birth and death become their only right.
It's never over, there's always a living, breathing, premature mass grave stabbing toward the sky.
Forced out onto the ledge they'll sing these words: "may nothing last?
May nothing ever be sacred?" Forced out onto the ledge, below is salvation.
Cast away my skin and bones.
I wonder when they'll find my ghost.
Cryptic messages found and now that you know the truth, will you let it haunt you like I let it haunt me too?
Cryptic messages found in everything you hold.
We force our own to the ledge.
Anarchy is dead.