Cold world, make my stomach turn Fire burns eternal Endless war Smoke clearing out wolves in a paper house We cut the wicked tongue We tie the noose you've hung We see the boundless harm Petrified hands Broken hearts (Treading water) (Scorpion on my back) (Onset of paralysis) I stand transfixed upon my own reflection Unacquainted with the one that stands before me Assembled with such careful calculation Are you the man that you claim to be? A dream once hopeful, now a conduit of self-hatred Left in a timeworn tomb of destinations once held sacred The shifting serpent, slithering in eternal shadow We cut the wicked tongue We tie the noose you've hung We see the boundless harm Petrified hands Broken hearts Make my stomach turn You endorsed the hurt Now you must live with the shame