Humiliated in defeat, we’ve all seen better days. “The ones that burn the brightest and are ones who quickly fade.” Those words haunt you, they put you in your place. They’re pissing on your face and not in a kinky way
The snake has struck, its’ venom is in. Sedation is your tradition
A simple request; fight back.
Once fiery eyes now blinded by mask of self-made ash. The noble deeds of your life are now referenced in past tense. The ones who dare to struggle are looked at with contempt. As you flaunt the fucked up values you swore you’d fight against.
The snake has struck, its’ venom is in. Sedation is tradition.
Completely fail to represent the standard set you wrote yourself. Intention was worth more back then until the means consumed the end. Now stagnancy and nihilism reign unopposed to those within the infected blanket statements meant to ensure we never fight again.
The snake has struck, its’ venom is in
A simple request; fight back.
Track Name: Attrition
As happy children fled, a curiosity kept us there. Wanting something more than eternal unprovoked despair. A desperate fight for broken dreams… never content with seeing things as they seemed.
“Shut up and it’ll be alright” but I still kept screaming.
We feigned hope and they bought it, they ran off while we struggled up. We said “fuck off,” absorbed punches. “Thank you sir may I have another.” In our lives we’ve discovered there’s no time limit to be thought of, as long as we don’t give up, we don’t lose and they’ll never truly win.
Don't ever let them win.
Track Name: Misery Ward
Is disease still a disease when almost everyone’s infected? Is normalcy re-classified to accommodate the sickness? No wonder it’s so hard to get a proper diagnosis. I feel like shit inside.
Affliction is comedy; your laughter is the cancer.
There is no sympathy without attachment, that’s called reaction.
Your demeanor is the disease.
At least we’ll be united in our misery.
Your disease is their disease, but the symptoms aren’t apparent. Typically it’s overlooked. mocked and then rejected. Hinder and hold back until personally affected. There is no support system.
Infected, isolated lives. Will open wounds open your mind? Will we start to recognize the victims have been synthesized? We’re all complicit in their misery.
Track Name: Time Collectors
Oh no I’m fucking awake, can I ever escape? Can I ever escape? Everyday is the fucking same. Every day is the same, the monotony. The monotony, it’s killing me, it’s killing me, have you ever felt trapped? I’m claustrophobic and I’m trapped and I’m ready to snap
In between pneumonic breaths we struggle to catch a glimpse of what life could have been.
We’re born with our deathbeds already made. We learn to swim in shallow graves. We rarely ever stray from the paths paved with our predestined fates. We smile and obey.
We are harbingers of death and wasted breath…prophesies of disappointment.
Are we content with this collection of minutes we call life? Are we living or just collecting time?