There Are No Saviours - Ulcerate

Birthed inside

Unending conflict

It is our making and destruction

The machination of man

Tearing through foundations

Left conditioned and numb

Content to pull insidious skin over

Tortured eyes

Fulfilled and blind

The rest, the waste are buried

No eulogies

No remembrance

There are no saviours

No restraining our past from devouring the present

No beginning that won’t end us

Corrupted cold existence

Embedded by bankrupt voices and words

Spewing fear, echoed by instinct

We face the anguished truth

The beginning is the end

Bound within empty bodies

Captive in shells, obscure and imperfect

To wither

To acquiesce and obey

Is to wither