The bleak and empty canvas
Rent before me is our own
Created madness
Cancerous and reeking of discord
Malignant growth
Metastasis consuming bodies whole
Leaving the canvas bloodied
And the soul destroyed
Casting us further into the void
As time proceeds and leaves us
Weak and alone
The grinding wheels
Will peel our skin to the bone
Planned obsolescence
Doomed to fail by design
Speaking volumes
To our need for survival
Reliant wastrels left dependent
On morose and morbid hope
Dulling the senses like a blade
Left blunt with rust
Adaptability to growth
Emaciated and forlorn
Starved for progress and
Abandoned all at once
As time proceeds and leaves us
Weak and alone
The grinding wheels
Will peel our skin to the bone
Planned obsolescence
Doomed to fail by design
Speaking volumes
To our need for survival
Planned obsolescence
Doomed to fail by design
Speaking volumes
On our desire to die
As time proceeds and leaves us
Weak and alone
The grinding wheels
Will peel our skin to the bone
As time proceeds and leaves us
Weak and alone
The grinding wheels
Will peel our skin to the bone
