I grow tired of expired antiquated propositions
from stale people from whom all this wisdom expelled
my soul and begged for me to fold
lay down the hand I'm dealt, with aces in the hole

Words can't help me maintain
(You pollute the stage, Thought stands in the way)
I've got no feelings to drain
Now as per the usual, the same refrain remains
(At least by this hypothesis: pain equates repent)

A silent rage that simmers, long after I pollute the stage
there's nothing more tragic than a man without a way
a verse without a chorus, chorus without refrain

Words can't help me maintain
(You pollute the stage, Thought stands in the way)
I've got no feelings to drain
Now as per the usual, the same refrain remains
(At least by this hypothesis: pain equates repent)

Would someone please tell me how it feels to be content,
with this world at large, this vile lift, my angel's Heaven sent
to test with no compassion, undeserving of relent;
at least by this hypothesis: pain equates repent.

Would someone please tell me how it feels to be content,
with this world at large, this vile lift, my angel's Heaven sent
to test with no compassion, undeserving of relent;
at least by this hypothesis: pain equates repent.