1. |
...And It Burns
03:32
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Torn apart and stripped from the core
(save me from myself)
All these pages, countless faces pass and you can't fathom this world without a higher power keeping you in line.
You wield a weak mind
A lack of intuition feeds on your broken complexion
Why can't you open your eyes?
The route is guided by the petals that rot from the stem of your conscience.
Do you even know who you are?
We all die in this world
A cage built by the "grace of his presence"
Your broken bond of these lies that they feed you, leave you hopeless of what is to come
And it burns, and it burns, the fact that life after death isn't certain
Help me, I want it all, give it to me
Let me know what it feels like to bleed
My cage is locked, please find me the key
Angel of death, please take this life from me
This mind is so fragile yet so far from reality
It makes me fucking sick to watch you bathe in your own apathy
Open your eyes
Watch me bleed, watch me bleed, watch me fucking bleed.
Now burn, burn, fucking burn in the name of your maker.
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2. |
Cult Of Kings
01:56
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Cancer of the weak
Voices unheard
Buried in regret
Blade of vengeance
Essence of the weak
Small cries for help
Buried with the dead
An image of salvation
We are born together (without mercy)
Cultivating stolen thoughts
Fixated on the truth
Or to bury our lies
You dig into
Nails pierce my corneas
And cover your ears
As I choke on my blood
Heaven is a prison
An escape to see the truth
Heaven is a fucking prison
Incarcerated in the blood of Christ
Cut my wrists
Bear my fucking chain
You dig into me
My flesh, paper thin
A witness begging for mercy
But a backbone to endure
Zenith rooted to a lifeless vessel
A vision of angels cut the throat of God
Rains of blood conceived
Mortality above
I want to die at the feet of the Cult of Kings.
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3. |
Mental Threshold
03:09
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This barrier, once pieced together now shattered in cold blood
Crucify my will, for I have expired completely from the torture that you hold so close
I itch for the blood that you drew from me (drain me dry)
All gone, consumed by your fingertips as you peel me open
Anesthesia injection, your nails pierce through my heart with such ease
No mercy, no feeling like taking ones life from their own dead fucking hands
(This feeling)
The scalpel treads deeper and deeper until I feel life slip away
I no longer exist
A fracture to the frontal lobe
You dissect my thoughts in increments
So take your time, don't rush this process
A thief will hunt for as little as pocket change
Extraction brings pain
But I will no longer suffer when this is over
And I'm lost, but you can't stop me from breaking free of this curse that you cast
I won't be tamed.
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A Dozen Black Roses Nashville, Tennessee
Austin Evans
Marcus Wickham
Blake Hardman
Kelly Cook
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