Somatically Incorrect - Whitechapel

There are no bonds between a mastermind of Armageddon

And the ones who vomit forth their fabrication

Of a life that is blinded by lies

Funny how it all works out

This is my chance to control

You’re lying on the shards talking to yourself

Your innards exposed

Laughing uncontrollably, crushing your anatomy

Delusional psychosis has it’s grip on me

I just can’t fucking wait

I have the upper hand to do whatever I please

I’m in love with the fact that you’re looking at me

While you take your last gasp of air

Crawl back into your comforting hole

Keep promising yourself that salvation will come

I really don’t think you know the life that you could have

Just keep thinking everything will be all right

Keep thinking you can hide from destiny

I’ll keep haunting every move you make

Let me inside your mind

I prefer you to defend yourself

Schizophrenia interrupts the scene of attention

Let’s see how long this will last

It’s normal to dismember, it’s normal to contain no regrets

For what I have caused and the dramatic effect

My vision’s spinning my nose is bleeding

Everything is slowly distorting

This is somatically incorrect

Through hell you will walk to even get the slightest moment of peace

You haven’t even gotten anything close to what you deserve

It’s set in stone and putrefaction will be my oxygen

Recite your pledge to death and don’t forget to die

Choke on the false hope