Bless the coming resurgence, the bitter lure of the repeat philosophy.
Don't trust progress they marked a love.
The main substance just calls for blood.
Don't trust, don't trust their so called solution.
They'll stab the nails in your hand and call it purity.
You don't need to cut out your heart, nothing is falling apart.
You don't need to cut out your heart,
there such beauty in writing your part.