These fingers are freezing,
They’re screaming of poor circulation.
We’ve traded the greatest physician for self-medication
And now this body is failing.
The heart slows its beating, we’re needing a resuscitation.
We took turns deciding the ending
while we took communionsome
egos and doctrine mixed in with an addictive poison. And it tastes of redemption.
And each evered appendage established
it’s own holy union...
but what good are hands
apart from the body?
We’re satisfied with removing limbs
when we decide they’re
functionless.
Wait for me here, this surgery is elective.
Wait for me.
We took turns playing to
these masses
careful not to
lose them.
If they dare to
move against us,
we’ll just
remove them.
We’ve shifted the blame from the head to the hands to the feet...
They should have run faster.
We’ve shifted the blame so many times,
And now they’ve caught us. And now it’s over.
We’re satisfied with removing limbs,
We decide they’re functionless.
Wait for me here, this surgery is elective.
Wait for me here, I’m not going under. Wait for me.
