A Form of Protest

From the inside to the surface
I think we cursed it
We kill the light with the darkness
And we deserve it
Sold our souls they were worthless
Now we're remorseless
We become death incarnate

Falling further now
Sinking deeper down

Should we burn ourselves alive
Should we collapse on the knife

I think that god made us broken
And she enjoyed it
Soak in bleach, and corrupt it
Where is the purpose
We are apocalypse
We are death incarnate
We are apocalypse

Falling further now
Sinking deeper down

Should we burn ourselves alive
Should we collapse on the knife
I won't become what I despise
Yeah We should burn ourselves alive

The hand that feeds is a servant
Were we designed to deserve this

Death, Anger, Spite, Disease
Death, Anger, Spite, Disease

Should we burn ourselves alive
Should we collapse on the knife
I won't become what I despise
Yeah we should burn ourselves alive