Sweating, freezing, itching, bleeding Self-styled poison, a lethal meaning Face down, helpless in forty-eight hours Sickness Pulling your hair out, your legs kicking straight out This is the closest to death you will be Sickness Revolting, distorting and changing for worsened No one will recognize exactly what's wrong You are denying and lying No truth, pull up You've lost your old friends, they'll never return again Even when your senses return again Sickness, self-desired, self-assured, with staff infection Nauseous and bloated, your best behind you now Irritate, four burning lines A blood-coated ending to your life's story Sickness Paranoia, schizophrenia Resembling a picture of disabled fear The future is pestilence under your skin Sickness As gravity pulls you down and then under The pain, it increases With every step, you're begging for the ending The dragons sending you messages From the Grim Reaper's plans Sweating, freezing, itching till bleeding Self-styled poison, a lethal meaning, face down, helpless Terror engulfs us The sickness that saves us is killing us now