Feel a pain so cold under the skin
As I dig the grave to bury these sins
Taste a misery so real that purity stains
Obsession with a thrill that possesses my veins
Reveling in depravity
As I drown in the agony
The entrance to nothingness
The eternal winter that's blacker than death
I walk in a void in the absence of magnificence
A pitch black misery of malevolence
Visions of tomorrow becoming irrelevant
When the plethoras of demise have become a feeling of decadence
Oh the old familiar shame
I buried all the pain away in the ashes and grey
Drifting out and astray
I dug the grave
The empty hole that keeps what's saved
And now I know that it's misanthropy that's killing me
Digging the grave
The sickness is tightening
Digging the grave
The sickness is tightening
Digging the grave
The sickness is tightening
Digging the grave
The sickness is tightening
Purify these stains
Digging the grave
That possess my veins
Digging the grave
compositores: Michael Keene
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