| I’ve stepped inside a world I don’t know |
| The sky’s not quite the same anymore |
| Dead stasis |
| Burnt pages |
| Fabric of society torn |
| Condemned either way |
| No cells, no chains |
| Resistance is buried like a secret to a grave |
| Face down in the dirt again |
| What’s to gain from being the last one standing? |
| Cut the limb and not the tourniquet |
| So now it’s understood |
| We remove the deadwood |
| Pulled apart from all sides |
| It never took much to divide |
| Can’t find a way to detach |
| So light the fucking match |
| Never been the first to cast a stone |
| But we’ll torch the fields |
| Where their seeds are sewn |
| Like moths to flames |
| They all burn the arcane |
| Constricted, complicit |
| In how we’re detained |
| Face down in the dirt again |
| What’s to gain from being the last one standing? |
| Cut the limb and not the tourniquet |
| So now it’s understood |
| We remove the deadwood |
| Burn it down! |
| Raze it all to the ground! |
| Every last one! |
| I felt the weight of a soul in my hands |
| And I’m starting to understand |
| They’re all dead weight |
| Transcending this hell unscathed |
| While we fight for the scraps thrown away |
| Parasites and sycophants |
| Bleeding you dry |
| Face down in the dirt again |
| What’s to gain from being the last one standing? |
| Cut the limb and not the tourniquet |
| So now it’s understood |
| We remove the deadwood |
| Deadwood |