They offer us the blades that tear with pleasure our flesh And every strife carves their influence on our minds We live with this suffering, a fall into depression The self-mutilation pushes us towards the meaning of our beings
They decrease us all the time until we reach the state of shit And every word molest our faces into wounds We take all verbal injuries and keep them inside The inner rottenness feed the ulcer, bleeding fear
They die, one after one, cause this is all they deserve And the smell of powder mixed to their blood is intoxicating We bear the guns and load the bullets blasting their heads We're children of Despair and priest of negation
We are them We offer your blades and break your minds We load your guns nd press the relaxation We are them and command your death
