Текст: My Bitter End. The Renovation. To All Things Expendable.

And in the beating filth that festers. A crowning life. The blocks us in our path.
One step too many, in the wrong direction. This night will mark.
The. Coming of. Train yourselves in example of everything, start something worth while, futile.
Leave enemies swallowing. Futile, worth while.
May our constant lust be a cover up, for the lack there of.
Of equality. And it wont stay. Not it wont stay. Not it wont.
Song of recovery, knowing. Wasting the time on the fall out.
Let's stop the chains of a soul who needs company too.
No longer with the risks be something we will evolve. Let the tyrant bare in our mouths.
Slurring again, to me, let this wallow. Swallow down, sorrow recovering love.
Swallowing up right where we left it off. Sorrow picks up where we left.
Arm the night, arm the night, arm the night, and in these final days.
Arm the night. So we can stop