The Colonist Fit for an Autopsy (Ft. Ray Mazzola)

Where does the setting sun go to rest?
The darkest days come and go, they never seem to end
Inhuman, inhumane, inane existence
Barely existing
Surviving, reviving a world that has been dead for years
Blood sweat and tears
Disinformation and fear

We carry on like we serve a purpose
Just a decaying gear in a machine, built to destroy itself
From the inside out, bleeding from the mouth
Calling out your name, carving out your hate

Alone and breathing, the same stagnant air the rats exhale
Pushing through the waste, the shallow graves
Hoping to find a cure to cleanse the filth of the human race

Expose the skull
Leave the brain and pray it never stops dreaming
Expose the bone, leave the heart and pray it never stops beating

Failure is not an option, it's the only way out
How long until it crumbles? How much longer can we last?
Do we even have a choice? Or do we stand a chance?
We place our faith and trust in the hands of heartless fucking liars
So we can sleep at night
And hope we never wake up
Never wake up, never wake up