Dead Internet

Finally balance and penance

For dreaming of better things

Simply, poor me and poor you

We'd have done kind things with the money

I’m sorry it was all me and for nothing, nothing but in

Final reckoning

It has meaning you cannot imagine

Like horns raining down from

In final reckoning

It has meaning you cannot imagine

And final reckoning

It has meaning you cannot imagine

A tone, detuned so low

That the writhing rhythm is a klaxon

It's wailing and random

A pattern mistaken for passion

It's friction between the soul

And the world outside of your own soul

Its grinding is deafening

Like horns rained down from heaven

Heaven, like heaven

Like horns rained down from heaven

Heaven

Like horns rained down from heaven