The Lord of the Flies on the Wall
Writes my name from right
To what's left of it
What's left of it?
Somebody spell it out for me
Nothing as far as I can read
Beneath your contempt for me
A moment of clarity
Breeding pestilence and reptiles
My spirit isn't willing to risk
Past life and phantom limb
To lift the dead weight
Of this grave, cruel world again
Hissing in the dead languages
I raised my voices of reason to speak
Before the deafening call of the void
And the bite of confusion
Shifted the shape of my vulgar tongue
Twisting the blade of a fate worse than death
Shaking the pillars of my creation
Like tremors in the hands of anxious God
My spirit isn't willing to risk
Past life and phantom limb
To lift the dead weight
Of this grave, cruel world again
My last breath will draw first blood
And paint a silent picture of me
Into the darkest corner of my beholder's eye
With the sword I will fall on in swallowed pride
A trick candle, three sheets to the wind
With a death wish, burning my bridges at both ends
The smoke blows me one last kiss goodbye
Before telling me
The greatest trick the Devil's ever pulled
Was convincing
me to believe in anything
But I overstayed
My welcome in Hell
My spirit isn't willing to risk
Past life and phantom limb
To lift the dead weight
Of this grave, cruel world again
I overstayed
My welcome in Hell
Under the influence
Of self-inflicted
False prophecies
My spirit isn't willing to risk
Past life and phantom limb
To lift the dead weight
Of this grave, cruel world again
The dead weight of this grave cruel world again