Texty: In Flames. Clayman. Bullet Ride.

Do you feel anything at all?
Do you hear steps at the door?
Do you reckon the smell of?
It's life, the dark death binds you

Frightened by your own smell
Bitterness will run you through

Silent, screaming
Turning, twisting the alphabet
Frenetic eyes
Awaiting the answer
Splinters of a poem
Fragments of what you used to be
Habitual and gullible
Run down memoirs is all that's left

Do you wish to sleep?
Do you aim for the shadow?
Do you feel all infected?
It's life, the dark death binds you

Frightened by your own smell
Bitterness will run you through

Silent screaming
Turning, twisting the alphabet
Frenetic eyes
Awaiting the answer
Splinters of a poem
Fragments of what you used to be
Habitual and gullible
Run down memoirs is all that's left

It's the cowardice that pulls you under
And takes you to the end, where it begins
Release the world is waiting on your arrival
Close your eyes, as we witness another bullet ride

Do you know about atrocity?
Do you know that everybody's gone?
Do you know that you're on your own?
It's life, the dark death binds you

Frightened by your own smell
Bitterness will run you 'round

Silent, screaming
Turning, twisting the alphabet
Frenetic eyes
Awaiting the answer
Splinters of a poem
Fragments of what you used to be
Habitual and gullible
Run down memoirs is all that's left