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Faces Dead

Grindstone


Borrowed eyes that multiply giving strength in numbers to heedless minds.
Stolen words from a rehashed verse handed down to the feeble as masses rehearse.
Wade in shit as a gift from the man with the voice that represents the mindless clan.
Line ‘em up, herd ‘em up, mold ‘em up, stack ‘em up for the bodies with faces dead!

Exchange your face, the old one’s dead.
You’re gonna wake up tomorrow a brand-new man.
And now you’re telling me things you think I’m thinking of.
Why don’t you get up and stand on your own two feet for once!
Speak the voice and smell the taste, wallow in the words they lay to waste.
Through their eyes you will visualize, see this world created on your faceless pride.
Dwell within as they crawl through skin as they feed off flesh they’re sickening.
It’s the man, it’s the judge, it’s your soul, it’s the one who gave you faces, they can take it away.

Speak my voice, I will become, can’t keep me under controlling thumb.
Through these eyes I will redefine this world I live in and occupy.
With my mind I will rectify, erase all weakness to fortify.
I’m the man, I’m the judge, I’m the soul, I’m the man with a face that you can’t take away!

Compositor: Hyde/stilwell/ludahl/miller

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