Woorden:
Funeral From These Wounds

rid the world from it's finer strains Through pills and acid that destroy our brains A utopia they seek to gain To save our world from the ones thought

Here I lie Awaiting to die No cigarettes No drinks after eight Here I lie Medication cut down To preserve my breath To postpone my death Understand This

burden of death is a heavy task About to lose my everything Cancellation of my future dreams So I have written my testament My desire to live it screams I received my death sentence From

May I wear you this night As we marvel at our death I would wane within your art As you would become me Like ashes circling the pyre With virtues of

rid the world from it's finer strains Through pills and acid that destroy our brains A utopia they seek to gain To save our world from the ones thought

that they sold us out America the beautiful, there's a funeral on every day of the month Tryin' to get our knees broken, huh It's another chance under these

Spit 'em up and swallow slow I reload, clipping' your ass crack, you constantly blast back Payback from flashback, some bitches know Bust 'til I see the chrome from the intro You was fucked from

Pale and twitching, twisting to the cold dance Watching the room grow old a funeral romance Somewhere, someone's, screaming that the worlds gone Smear me with your blood and let these

'm here to tell ya' I'm makin peace with the past And I'm not ashamed of my scars, But I'm done... I'm done harbouring grudges and nursing old wounds