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Fit For An Autopsy

The Colonist

 

The Colonist

(album: The Process Of Human Extermination - 2011)


Where does the setting sun go to rest? Go to rest?
The darkest days come and go, they never seem to end.
Inhuman, inhumane, inane existence.
Barely existing.
Surviving.
Reviving a world that has been dead for years.
Blood sweat and tears.
Disinformation and fear.
We carry on like we serve a purpose.
Just a decaying gear in a machine, built to destroy itself from the inside out,
Bleeding from the mouth, calling out your name, carving out your hate.
Alone and breathing, the same stagnant air the rats exhale.
Pushing through the waste, the shallow graves.
Hoping to find a cure to cleanse the filth of the human race.
Expose the skull.
Leave the brain and pray it never stops dreaming.
Expose the bone, leave the heart and pray it never stops beating.
Failure is not an option, it's the only way out.
How long until it crumbles? How much longer can we last?
Do we even have a choice? Or do we stand a chance?
We place our faith and trust in the hands of heartless fucking liars,
So we can sleep at night.
And hope we never wake up.
Never wake up.
You can't control us all.
You'll never kill us all.
Failure is not an option.
It's the only way out.
You can't control us all.
You'll never fucking kill us all.

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