Vārdi:
Through The Eyes Of The Dead Failure In The Flesh

nothing left There will be no one left to peel the guilt from our backs A flaw so fatal to our own survival Failure in the flesh Day by day we cleanse

through self-sacrifice Not for themselves, but you, you scab You raid the bodies of the dead You shit-head slimy make it alls With dead meat dripping

through self-sacrifice Not for themselves, but you, you scab You raid the bodies of the dead You shit-head slimy make it alls With dead meat dripping

Sickle constellations Stud the belts that welt the sky Whilst the bitter winter moon Prowls the cloud, dead-eyed Like shifting parent flesh Under silk

Sickle constellations Stud the belts that welt the sky Whilst the bitter winter moon Prowls the cloud, dead-eyed Like shifting parent flesh Under silk

Sickle constellations Stud the belts that welt the sky Whilst the bitter winter moon Prowls the cloud, dead-eyed Like shifting parent flesh Under silk

Sickle constellations Stud the belts that welt the sky Whilst the bitter winter moon Prowls the cloud, dead-eyed Like shifting parent flesh Under silk

s no compassion Breath heavy to pretend it's fun Raise the cover to protect your pride Ignore the failure that you see in the glass Paint the flesh to

Sickle constellations Stud the belts that welt the sky Whilst the bitter winter moon Prowls the cloud, dead-eyed Like shifting parent flesh Under silk