Visceral Damnation

It's the haste within our tragedy.

It's the waste within our vanity.
It's the race within our humanity.
It's the taste that makes me fucking sick.



Ill dreams and potential screaming to be something more,

Absent of every bitch on a corner selling herself like a whore.

The war between man and beast; angel and devil,

And it leaves you tasteless and at least nothing more than bittersweet.



I am I am I am,

Fuck you, you're a moron.

You are you are you are,

Your fucking right I am

Just another drudgery in the deep.



And whether it's the haste behind our tragedy,

The idle masks of vanity,

It's humanity that makes us sick.

Just another old trick of the same fucking book,

Old pain we've bred, nothing worse done or said.

Same bland taste, same pathetic look.


You can cry your tears but nothing saves anyone,

And no one for sure gives a damn about sorrow.
And we all just live till tomorrow waiting for the day,

Hoping to some divine bullshit faith.



I am I am I am,

Your nothing more than a dumb bitch.

You are you are you are,

Torn with chaos an envy of war.



And whether it's the haste behind our tragedy,

The idle masks of vanity,

It's humanity that makes us sick.

Just another old trick of the same fucking book,

Old pain we've bred, nothing worse done or said.

Same bland taste, same pathetic look.



Never enough done,

Not quite enough said,

You're better than hopeless,

But so far from death.