Can't escape the writhing mass
Turncoats, traitors
There's always something to
Make me lose my nerve

Is there a factory spitting out the snakes?
All supply, no demand
Leave me the fuck alone

Turncoats, traitors
Writhing mass of liars
Can't stop the bleeding
They emerge from from the earth like an open wound (like an open wound)

Sow the stitches into the soil
The will of the serpent uncoils

The worst is yet to come
They emerge
The writhing mass of liars

Sow the stitches into the soil
Seal the path, condemned

You bastards always make me lose my fucking nerve