1. Symptoms

Progress under these terms is slow death.
Chocking under your mass consumption.
They're all symptoms of your fall.
Your system is chocking and you with it.

They're all symptoms of your fall.
And you finally reached the limits.
Limits imposed by its nature.

And it's all futile to live under constant pressure of success and failure.
We all saw it coming cause the past dictates the future.

And we all saw it crash once before.
The thought process seems to be defiant.
Faith in a market and a market based on faith.
A faith in an invisible hand.

A hand stained with our blood.
Your system is chocking and you with it.
They're all symptoms of your fall.
Progress is death.
And death is progress.

Your death; progress through your death.
We all witness, on and on, your self proclaimed royalty.
And kept it quiet, blinded by delusions,
by your tricks and games while you bit the hand feeding you.
We all witness your downfall, ambitious hopes crashing in a common grave,
a common grave you designed.
Your system is chocking, and you with it.
They're all symptoms of your fall.
Progress is death.
Progress: your death.
We'll all progress through your death.

2. Hunted

Your disciples are ready to kill and to die.
Sacrifice women and children in the name of an ideology.
Survival instinct pushes you to commit the worst atrocities.

Complete denial and stubborn. Stubbornness or intellectually challenged?
Crimes will be punished, one day your time will catch you up.

It's only a matter of time.
Can you hear their voices?
They're all whispering in your back.
Can you feel it coming?
They're plotting to cut your head off.

Can you hear them knocking?
They're here knocking at your door.
And now all your enemies in an alliance are hunting you.
By thousands, they're chasing you.
All the ghosts of the victims plotting to cut your head off.
Haunting you.

3. Left Hand

It's a self-portrait
Painted with your blood
Revealing your darkest thoughts

Claiming yourselves to be the victims,
Victims that you are not

Empty feelings filling your empty shell
Of a self-centered existence
A distorted vision of your reality
A reality you deny
And each sunset brings a darker day
And people are all the same

Claiming yourselves to be the victims,
Victims that you are not

Erase all the lust
Break down all will
Glorified defeatist
Amputated left hand

Scared of what you might find?
Dig out what's deep inside
Sermons and false sympathy
This life suits you well

Empty feelings filling your empty shell
Of a self-centered existence
A distorted vision of your reality
A reality you deny
And each sunset brings a darker day
And people are all the same

Claiming yourselves to be the victims,
Victims that you are not

Scared of what you might find?
Dig out what's deep inside
Sterile and virgin
This death suits you well

4. Hopes

And your hope will lead you nowhere.
Cause your hope is an act of faith.
A faith in a fairy tale.
A faith that serves them well.
Primitive, living under the fear of the unholy and demons.
Human monstrosity.
From sheep.
Righteous man, spreading fear among the herd of lose sheep with mercantile interests.
To Wolf.
A romantic vision of your own demise.
From sheep to wolf.
Selling a romantic vision of our own death.
Selling a false prophecy.
And so we create this monster to our image.
We can relate.
In order to forgive the unforgivable and perpetuate.
Living under fear of Armageddon.
Bring ourselves to the limits.
From sheep to wolf.

5. It

It starts as a simple thought and grows, eats you alive.
You choke and you spit but you can't get the taste out of your mouth,
don't you know it's with you until the end.
And I'm breaking free from this.
You fight back with all you have, denying your intellectual cell.

It's a race against time, it's a fight you can't win.
You should know it is with you until the end.
I'm breaking free from this.

And all it needs is a single spark to bring yourself to life.
It's a race against time, it's a fight you can't win.
You should know by now it is with you until the end.

And I'm breaking free from this sinking rock and gasp for air.
And all the pacified fools waiting for death as their deliverance.
One step towards the end, seizing every moment.

6. Light

Sitting in the dark, hearing voices.
Voice of reason?
Voices you know.
Voice of truth?
Waging a war at your demons.
War at your impure thoughts.

All your demons outnumbered by voices.
Impure and outnumbered.
The danger in searching for a brighter light, is to find one where there is none.
Your so called impure thoughts you have is nothing but proof you're alive.
Murmurs you hear when you shut your eyes are nothing but a medical condition.
The danger in searching for a brighter light, is to find one where there is none.

7. Incongruous

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8. Pedestal

Dying on your pedestal, alone, aside from the rest of the world.
A pedestal they built for you.
Your intentions remained intentions...

Your art is a product of mass consumption benefiting some through the sale of plastic.
Manufacturing a sound they can dance to.

The illusion of a rebellion and you play along.
For the record; you're useless.
For the record; insignificant.
For the record; you're futile.
For the record; you think you're special; you're not. you're nothing but a commodity.

Nothing.
You think you wrote a page of history; it's false.
Your actions are based on selfishness.

For the record you're useless.
For the record; you're insignificant.
For the record, you're futile.
For the record; you think you're special; you're not.

There is a thousand just like you out there dying on your pedestal, alone, aside from the rest of the world.
A pedestal they built for you.
Your intentions remained intentions and nothing else.
Nothing.

9. Grief

Oh, and this is also life.
Worshiping imperfection and no one ever answers.
Young innocent, only a child, your first born taken from you.
Oh, and this is also life; followed the commandments and now betrayed by your God.
Oh, and this is also life; lived your life by the book and now betrayed by your God.
Worshiping imperfection and no one ever answers.
Begging the sky but nothing happens.
Why would he have let you down?
God of mercy now seems to you like nothing but a bringer of pain and imperfection.
Begging for nothing.
Worshiping imperfection.
Oh, and this is also life.
And she can't explain herself why her son was taken.
She begs the sky to give him back but no one ever answers back.

10. Damages

It's the tragic story of a crawling humanity imprisoned by its culture.
A culture of faith, a culture of pain and hate of the other for religious reasons.
We based our lives on this war.
The speech they have and preach have stopped our progress for a thousand years.
Arrested development.

Whether the war is real or fake, damages are real.
Perpetuate a false concept to protect our obsolete culture.
Bringing in the pain, in diverse ways and format.

Restricting your intellect.
A culture of faith, a culture of pain.
It's a plague, a cancer of the mind, of us all, arrested development.
A crawling humanity imprisoned by its culture.
Not just the hate we perpetuate. It's not just the restrictions we impose ourselves.

It's not just the false paradise we describe.
It's the work left undone.
It's the progress delayed.
Whether the war is real or fake, damages are real.
Perpetuate a false concept to protect out obsolete culture.
It's the tragic story of a crawling humanity imprisoned by its culture.

A culture of faith, a culture of pain and hate of the other for religious reasons.
We based our lives on this war.
The speech they have and preach have stopped our progress for a thousand years.
Not just the hate we perpetuate.

It's not just the restrictions we impose ourselves.
It's not just the false paradise we describe.
It's the work left undone.
It's the progress delayed.
It's not just the kill count we accumulate.
It's the tragic story of a crawling humanity imprisoned by its culture.

A culture of faith, a culture of pain and hate of the other for religious reasons.
We based our lives on this war.
The speech they have and preach have stopped our progress for a thousand years.
Bringing in the pain, in diverse ways and format.

Restricting your intellect.
A culture of faith, a culture of pain.
It's a plague, a cancer of the mind, of us all, arrested development.
A crawling humanity imprisoned by its culture.
Sharper than a razor blade, tighter than your chastity belt,
sicker than your honor crime; it's the premature death of your mind.

11. Unheard

Can you hear the silence we fill this room with?
These are the noises you will never make, the melody for a deaf audience.

And I feel so naive to have believed in you and your so-called innocence.
I was wrong.
These are the thoughts you'll fight forever.

Can you hear the silence and your comforting passivity?
These are the words you'll never hear, the message you will never get.
Wasting what is left.

Spitting my blood to the face of humanity.
Wasting what is left.
I said it before and I'll say it again.

And I feel so naive to have believed in you and your so-called innocence.
I was wrong.
Trying so hard to reach you; all in vain.
Useless.
Wasting my time on your polluted mind.
These are the noises you'll never make.
The melody for a deaf audience.
Comforting yourself in a passivity.
The revolt you will never endorse.
In the end, I said if before and I'll say it again: we're better off dead.