For every deed done Every battle lost or won For that weakening grasp in the heat of the moment A frozen glare from the eyes of Earth There is a second of questioning And foundations fall to the trial of... The fallen chains of the lesser curse You have never felt it, show your face to me With that weakening prospect in the heat When instability is delivered from confrontation We're the argument, we're the open wound A body seeking closure like an incision across the anatomy of iteration I loathe my skin, feel my pain through this lie