Thirty-two million grinding teeth behind a million crooked mouths

Malicious misanthropy manifested as a sound

The stench of human bodies inbetween these warehouse walls

The haunted, creeping call of your agoraphobia

Well, it's been the kind of year that has you keeping rope under your bed

In case you wake up thinking it might be a decent day to die

And making peace is starting to feel more like swallowing your anger

Til it festers deep within you like a cancer eating you from the inside

What's with the worrying?

Make comfort with the futile notion of staying alive

'Cause its a couple billion beats before you're swallowed by the ground

And each one's a little louder, so you better make it count

A fury on what's caging you, a rattling at the bars

A thrashing at the barricades, a fire to the walls

'Cause all your organs are just engines pumping your blood full of oxygen

And all the other chemicals that you need to survive

And someday they will stop and you will rot just like that 1988

Rusted out chevrolet that sits in your garage

Let's brew some war, ya know

Serenity is boring when you know you're gonna die