Текст: Crisis. Corpus Apocalypse.

I'm on the move again through fire and ash. I'll burn
myself down, then be born again. I remember the
coldness of being alive. I want you to feel my burning
death. it's COLD raw head and bloody bones COLD
when the chaos comes COLD being lost in this skin.
Feels like i'm coming home to death. Feels like i'm in
a fleshy coffin. Feels like i'm coming home to death.
Stuck in this skin I am trapped in a prison... this is
the pulse of a body rejecting itself. Revolutionized,
Overthrown from the inside out. There's a burning
heat traveling thru me. Shivers up my spine like a
fevered serpentine. I'm high... I'm high... Feels like
i'm coming home to death. Feels like i'm in a fleshy
coffin. Feels like i'm coming home to death. Stuck in
this skin I am trapped in a prison. Force to shed my

skin, i'll peel away till there's blood and vein and
ruptured skin. So low beneath the sky, Buried within
myself, Underneath A silent disease that kills the life
in me. Alive, it buries me. Again and again, I pick
up my pieces into one. I wash my wounds clean with
my own blood. Feels like i'm coming home to death.
Feels like i'm in a fleshy coffin. Feels like i'm coming
home to death. Stuck in this skin, I'm becoming.