Ulcerate - There Are No Saviours

Birthed inside
Unending conflict
It is our making and destruction
The machination of man
Tearing through foundations
Left conditioned and numb

Content to pull insidious skin over
Tortured eyes
Fulfilled and blind

The rest, the waste are buried
No eulogies
No remembrance
There are no saviours
No restraining our past from devouring the present
No beginning that won't end us

Corrupted cold existence
Embedded by bankrupt voices and words
Spewing fear, echoed by instinct
We face the anguished truth
The beginning is the end

Bound within empty bodies
Captive in shells, obscure and imperfect
To wither

To acquiesce and obey
Is to wither