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• Artiste: Fit For An Autopsy
• Titre: Spiral
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INCORRECT: avant la mauvaise ligne
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Embrace true emptiness Behind the eyes the beast is man is never far Dormant until we accept what we are No saints No grace There is no relief from the mountains of grief, intricately, assembled stone by stone The art of deception, in theory and practice, smothers any compassion we could hope to salvage There is no progress, when forward motions just a test of another mans lust for greed The will to resist disappears in the midst Staining the sky in eternal misery Intertwined in end times, wondrous webs of deceit we weave Behind the eyes, the beast in man is never far, only dormant until we accept what we are Don't save me there's nowhere to stay, that doesn't bear the scars of yesterday Embrace true emptiness Behind the eyes the beast in man is never far Dormant until we accept what we are No saints No grace The last lights, drift deep down into the spiral Where same and denial are forever and final Don't save me nomad on an orphan earth There's nowhere to stay, that doesn't bear the scars of yesterday Don't save me