Fit for an Autopsy
Spiral
Embrace true emptiness
Behind the eyes the beast in man is never far
Dormant until we accept what we are

No saints
No grace

There is no relief from the mountains of grief, intricately, assembled stone by stone
The art of deception, in theory and practice, smothers any compassion we could hope to salvage
There is no progress, when forward motion's just a test of another mans lust for greed
The will to resist disappears in the mist
Staining the sky in eternal misery
Intertwined in end times, wondrous webs of deceit we weave

Behind the eyes, the beast in man is never far, only dormant until we accept what we are

Don't save me. There's nowhere to stay, that doesn't bear the scars of yesterday

Embrace true emptiness
Behind the eyes the beast in man is never far
Dormant until we accept what we are

No saints
No grace

The last lights drift deep down into the spiral
Where shame and denial are forever and final
Don't save me
Nomad on an orphan earth
There's nowhere to stay, that doesn't bear the scars of yesterday
Don't save me