Whitechapel

There are no bonds between a mastermind of Armageddon
And the ones who vomit forth their fabrication
Of a life that is blinded by lies
Funny how it all works out
This is my chance to control
You're lying on the shards talking to yourself
Your innards exposed
Laughing uncontrollably, crushing your anatomy
Delusional psychosis has its grip on me
I just cant fucking wait
I have the upper hand to do whatever I please
I'm in love with the fact that you're looking at me
While you take your last gasp of air
Crawl back into your comforting hole
Keep promising yourself that salvation will come
I really don't think you know the life that you could have
Just keep thinking everything will be all right