Without a purpose, without a sound
To bask in regard of the place I'm allowed to call my destined conclusion
I have it all when I'm wrong

Rust and blood paint the portrait you wrought
Life as dirt
I have it all when I am wrong

Pariah, you'll cry out
A fire to die out

A war behind the flesh and bone to salve the sight of absent hopes
A prayer rings throughout these halls and maims promise of healing