This is a ploy of cold, crass, sheep.
To only milk the pieces of truth that suit their means
And I was just wandering what you thought it’d bring
So hey, there’s a poison in your skin
I see it quietly seeping out of it
Hey there’s a poison in your skin

I see it coming, saw it coming out.
And I am the fortunate one
This, an attempt at feeding primal needs,
Has woken all the demons that reside inside of me
And you still say that I am the fortunate one

Well I could wash my hands to pretend they’re clean,
Or I could purge my lips of spineless speech,
But the consequence of knowledge is an eager tongue
Don’t you leave, I wasn’t finished. This isn’t over
I will be heard
Every last word will have its turn

Mine may be the words unwisely sewn
To cultivate the path that I have chose
Mine may be the words you’ll never
Know but lay me in the dirt and I will grow
Are you listening? Cause my breath grows null
Tired quips begin to wither
Who can reason with time?
Lay me in the dirt and I will grow