Woorden: Pro-pain. Round Six. Fed Up.

There are no words that one can say


To justify oneself of existing conditions today
The race is on and yet the stakes are fucking high

So we gather all we can
Cause it ain't worth a shit when we die




For lack of resistance


We cling to our existence
Assuming position

Aborting your mission


Fed up with the fucking lies


Fed up with the world's demise
Fed up with the human race
I'll disappear without a trace





Trying times - no peace of mind



So we fight amongst ourselves
And we'll leave next to nothing behind

Fill the void - to satisfy


So we bite the hand that feeds us
A seemingly endless supply



In search for a saviour
Condoning this behaviour


Denial - we live in

When all is not forgiven