The ground isn't level but we can still stand

I'm out here empty-handed

Spill it, spit it, dye it red

All I need now is a needle and a thread

The books are stacked ceiling-high

Your last name is written on every spine

If you spit on a pencil it won't erase ink

Madness isn't foolish, I don't care what you think

I need distraction, you need to focus

Should I deliver you a more direct approach

Is this enough, is this a joke

Should I continue or make my way home

Same pastor that had my parents married

Baptized me and had my grandparents buried

In a jejune manor, praying over the dead

As if they haven't heard the best of it yet

Quiet

Close to almost silent

Of course it's grown to violence

Yeah, I refuse to answer

Run a little faster

Eat away my cancer, don't

Waste away in your own denial

Going down a spiral

A weapon is a T.V. and question

Why you cannot sleep

Salvation

Hatred infestation

Talk to anti-machine 'cause you

Drank all the seven seas