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