Maggots in the soil, they climb out and up my leg They promise me anything to make me believe everything they say Project your fear on me and sneak behind my back You better look out where you step before you fall in your own trap. You have your own blood on your hands You have your own Do I look like a sheep ready to die to feed the worthless? Do I look like a coward you can Push down so I can't reach the surface? I'll be the king on the throne, you'll be a jester for my amusement And you'll be the one who stands alone damned for immurement You have your own blood on your hands