Existence pushed to the lowest level
The freedom of spirit the last to remain... seemingly!
All principles sold, given up, for this state of mind.
The life, for what it is and never should be.
Only a poor, sick brain and myself left to sell.
Take it all, don't try to understand
The rest of what -- the rest of what was good
You won't see, never destroy.
And all around only agreement
To everything that means fun
Arguing only a foreign word.
And I watch the coldness infecting me too.
Writer(s): Duane Keith Ii, Claudio Enzler
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