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Where’s the threat of death

when only gods are left?

Blessed be the flesh

of the emperor in a state of undress.

Impressed with the depths

he tread from the wreck,

where’s the threat of death

when only fucks like him are left?

Is that what I look like?

Is that what I look like?

Stomach full, but never took a bite.

Gave myself a fright,

gave myself a fright.

No one’d share it with me, I wonder why.

This cannot be where the path has always led,

pawning off our essence for a deathbed.

The king’s held us for ransom. Off with his head.

A dead end sign for the next in line:

“Everything’s fine.”

Mirror mirror, tell me now,

who’s the fairest of the clowns?

May we parade them through the center of town?

Well shit, I don’t need to look around.

Spare me your bloodless crown.

Cast your dead over the bough

and keep it down.

It’s just a cut.

It’s just a cut.

Might as well sell what’s left of us.

When will it be enough?

When will it be enough?

It never will.

Thank god I finally wised up.

This cannot be where the path has always led,

pawning off our essence for a deathbed.

The king’s held us for ransom. Off with his head.

A dead end sign for the next in line:

“Everything’s fine.”

The end thinks it’s nigh.

Brace for impact,

‘cause it hasn’t felt the kickback.

I’ve got a taste for bait.

An arms race with the state.

A staged cage match

against a colossus arcane.

I’ve seen it drive this sleigh,

I ain’t giving up the reins.

There are no stalemates

when punching gods in the face.

I haven’t lost yet.

I haven’t lost yet.

Broken a sweat, almost out of breath.

What did I expect?

What did I expect

when only fucks like him are left?

This cannot be where the path has always led,

pawning off our essence for a deathbed.

The king’s held us for ransom. Off with his head.

A dead end sign for the next in line:

“Everything’s fine.”

Everything’s fine.