Texty: At The Gates. Cold.

To rid the earth of the filth
To rid the earth of the lies
The will to rise above
Tearing my inside out

[Chorus:]
I feel my soul go cold
Only the dead are smiling

To rid your heart of all lies
Their poison tongues, poison hearts
Burning cold...
Now let the final darkness fall

[Chorus:]

'...The dream of the new disease
On wings of euphoria...
Sucking terror from the needle scars...'

22 years of pain
And I can feel it closing in
The will to rise above
Tearing my insides out

[Chorus:]