Hell rains upon me With the reigns of atomic end It doesn’t matter what I believe Cause in the end it’s all about the means These winds are no longer safe for breathing They convey the fatal blow But a vessel that special delivers its poisons, They’re flowing straight into my lungs I should have know that it would end this way But I was locked up, shut down, shoving it all away I was in denial And now know you’re all guilty too You’re all ******* guilty There’s a sickness in my body Every pore, every aperture, an avenue For the life to escape it's host Everything I touch I leave my husk behind Empty bones and undertones of fumes that sear my soul, I’ll repair these tattered lungs With a drop of cyanide upon my tongue I’m too sick to move I’m too weak to make it through The soil I lay upon has been polluted with the truth And I’m too sick to move Arms made of lead along with a shortness of breath, Brought on by armies of dead men With no sense of regret There’s a sickness in my body Every pore, every aperture, an avenue For the life to escape it's host Everything I touch I leave my husk behind Empty bones and undertones of fumes that sear my soul, I’ll repair these tattered lungs With a drop of cyanide upon my tongue Now my lungs, are filled with a creeping dose of Bitter disgust, for the world I used to trust The world has yet to see, what can truly be unleashed When you **** with the, intercontinental travesty
Hell rains upon me With the reigns of atomic end It doesn’t matter what I believe Cause in the end it’s all about the means These winds are no longer safe for breathing They convey the fatal blow But a vessel that special delivers its poisons, They’re flowing straight into my lungs I should have know that it would end this way But I was locked up, shut down, shoving it all away I was in denial And now know you’re all guilty too You’re all ******* guilty There’s a sickness in my body Every pore, every aperture, an avenue For the life to escape it's host Everything I touch I leave my husk behind Empty bones and undertones of fumes that sear my soul, I’ll repair these tattered lungs With a drop of cyanide upon my tongue I’m too sick to move I’m too weak to make it through The soil I lay upon has been polluted with the truth And I’m too sick to move Arms made of lead along with a shortness of breath, Brought on by armies of dead men With no sense of regret There’s a sickness in my body Every pore, every aperture, an avenue For the life to escape it's host Everything I touch I leave my husk behind Empty bones and undertones of fumes that sear my soul, I’ll repair these tattered lungs With a drop of cyanide upon my tongue Now my lungs, are filled with a creeping dose of Bitter disgust, for the world I used to trust The world has yet to see, what can truly be unleashed When you **** with the, intercontinental travesty
