To All Things Expendable

and in the beating filth that festers
a crowing life
the blocks us in our path
one step too many
in the wrong direction
this night will mark the coming of ends..
this song is a pulse that ends
this
night will mark
the
coming of

train urselves in example of everything
start something worth while futile
leave enemies swallowing
futile worth while

may our constant lust be a cover up
for the lack there of
of equality

and it wont stay
no it wont stay
no it wont

song of recovery
knowing
wasting the time on the fall out
lets stomp the chains of a soul who needs company too
no longer with the risks be something we will evolve
let the tyrant bare in our mouths
slurrring again,
to me
let this wallow

swallow down
sorrow recovering love
swallowing up right where we left it off
sorrow picks up where we left

arm the night
arm the night
arm the night

and in these final days
arm the night
so we can stop.