Cold world, make my stomach turn
Fire burns eternal
Endless war
Smoke clearing out wolves in a paper house
We cut the wicked tongue
We tie the noose you've hung
We see the boundless harm
Petrified hands
Broken hearts
(Treading water)
(Scorpion on my back)
(Onset of paralysis)
I stand transfixed upon my own reflection
Unacquainted with the one that stands before me
Assembled with such careful calculation
Are you the man that you claim to be?
A dream once hopeful, now a conduit of self-hatred
Left in a timeworn tomb of destinations once held sacred
The shifting serpent, slithering in eternal shadow
We cut the wicked tongue
We tie the noose you've hung
We see the boundless harm
Petrified hands
Broken hearts
Make my stomach turn
You endorsed the hurt
Now you must live with the shame
