A weak self-proclaimed introspective
just spit in the face of the common collective
men who would die (unselected!)
you've covered your tracks
the oil in the gears of your old beast
Sparking that gas soaked heart up in flames
to blister a void through your hollowed out cave
try to get some sleep, I fear your pulse dying out
come put me in my place when you finally come around
We ain't counting on taking the blame
God damn, you've corroded your poor father's name
come around dead man, muster up!
Oh I can wait till you reap what you've sewn
Chasing the grave, Chasing the grave
You got the devil inside you heart
You got that fire inside you