Gut level, below it all.
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Out of duty - just here.
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Feeling like a knife's being twisted in the hole of how it is.
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False hope, an inch of pride that died when I left to hide from non stop
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battering of conditioned opinion.
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Rest assured but not assured, all is well, but I think we've dealt
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with the fear for far too long.
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Unborn suffer the norm.
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Born to this - I thin not!
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I stand against till the shit drops.
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We see all but do nothing, in the hole of "How it is".
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-----------------
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Twist The Knife (Slowly) (Pete Coleman Original Mix Down)
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| Napalm Death |
