Higher pleasure
Infinitely higher pleasures
Like being hanged
For something I did not do,
Or choking
On the smoke from my lungs.

You and I are a battlefield
Of memories
And bitterness.
Who would have though
Resentment's time would come
So soon?
We are still so young
And yet we execute each other
Every single time
We look around
And see the horrors
Of this place.

Everyone is someone's son
And you are leading us
All through the wilderness
The blind man leads the infidels
And I'm not really trying
To defeat you
We have been here far too long
And I am not afraid
To stand alone
In the middle
Of the flames.