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Traitors
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Dead Nerves
Here lies a broken man,
dead and beaten from his own hands.
The wounds internal, self inflicted
Without his consent shapeless men have shifted.
Through my eyes, and through my psyche, my head is heavy through the night.
Here lies a broken man,
dead and beaten from his own hands.
The wounds internal, self inflicted
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Without his consent shapeless men have shifted.
So how does it feel? To pull the hammer back,
do you hear a gun CRACK
or does it all just turn to black? Death is on both sides of me,
I'm just another faithless being.
These men have come for nobody but me,
and I'm only one step closer to insanity.
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