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 known that it would end this way
But I was locked up, shut down, shoving it all away
I was in denial
And you know you"re all guilty too
You"re all f****** 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 f*** with the, intercontinental travesty
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 known that it would end this way
But I was locked up, shut down, shoving it all away
I was in denial
And you know you"re all guilty too
You"re all f****** 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 f*** with the, intercontinental travesty