Hell finds the pavement bent and torn Rips through the ashes born In the world of undertaker's masks The futile human race of tasks Marking the soul for extinction In hands that hold only bits of blades Leaving the weak to suffer graves The streets that know no face of grace Shatter the guilty all over the place In every possible direction Those raising minds of mutated thought Chemically balanced by others taught To sacrifice all for the sake of simplicity Battling time yet never get free Of the force of their creation Silent minds and voices loud Reversing it when in the crowd All the phobias we can diagnosis What is the one that gives up the ghost Senselessly to its frustration Forever building the undefineable To have an excuse to be knowledgeable And divide instinct from knowingness Endlessly with the soul at risk Marking it for extinction