Manic Street Preachers

Conscience binds you in chains
Trail by stone hammer and nails
No- one made the holes but me
Misery mourns to be devoured
Killed God blood soiled unclean again
Killed God blood soiled skin dead again
Again everywhere again
All removables, all transitory
All removables, passing always
All removables, all transitory
All removables, passing always
Never grown preserved gently
A bronze moth dies easily
Unknown to others weak to me
Broken hands never ending
Aimless rut of my own perception
Numbly waiting for voices to tell me
For voices to tell me
All removables, all transitory
All removables, passing always
All removables, all transitory
All removables, passing always
All removables, all transitory
All removables, passing always