For every deed done
Every battle lost or won
For that weakening grasp in the heat of the moment
A frozen glare from the eyes of Earth
There is a second of questioning
And foundations fall to the trial of...
The fallen chains of the lesser curse
You have never felt it. Show your face to me
With that weakening prospect in the heat
When instability is delivered from confrontation
We're the argument, we're the open wound
A body seeking closure like an incision across the anatomy of iteration
I loathe my skin, feel my pain through this lie
