(This flesh holds me captive and in quest of liberation As the sheep flock in the dissonance, I tread in dissent To the piercing light that sears our hearts To the sickness that plagues our spirits I cannot revere in this blind acceptance And falter in my comprehension) Forfeit my injured soul, this affliction I respire! Heal this restless spirit - that bestowed naught Heal this heart that approached the world, as I relegate - I consign! Heal my heart, my weeping soul, I consign this putrid flesh Nothing here, nobody there (Erroneous illness shouting) The outcry reviles this tattered soil (Drowning the world in filth and distortion) Forfeit my injured soul, this affliction I respire! Heal this restless spirit - that bestowed naught Heal this heart that approached the world, as I relegate - I consign! Heal my heart, my weeping soul, I consign this putrid flesh I'll leave my conscience to die A barrenness of dreams and anticipation Life and hope shrivel into the void Heal this heart that approached the world, as I relegate - I consign! Heal my heart, my weeping soul, I consign this putrid flesh In this pantheon of sorrow (We are everything, yet nothing!) And as long we're breathing (The burden devoid of conclusion!) (Unaided I slither - ravaged, silent and alone I smolder in anxious strife; I decline these exhausted remnants of decay The world is coming to an end; a vast ocean of disease All hope is lost or perhaps this is the cradle of salvation) I must tranquil these turbulent waters No more expressions shall leave my trait No further words shall be spoken This illness they conceived broke my tired wings