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Disease

from The Empty Circle by Psychostasy

/

lyrics

The same routine repeats
Share your frustrations, let your madness out on me
Listening to nonsense
Feeding you the same pathetic lie day after day
While you’re dragging me in your own grave

Herder of zombies
The life I chose which will turn me into one of them
And secure my place in hell
The beeping of the machines
Etched in my eardrums when I try to go to sleep
Hoping for the end to be near

Disfigurement of soul
Loss of all control

I, protector of the ugly truth
Bearer of the false hope
That things will ever be as they were before
I, servant of a broken god
A puppet on a string
Fighting a war that nobody will win

With no feelings other than fear
With no leeches sucking you clean
With no gods left to appease
Death is the only way out of the disease

I, slave to a useless carcass
Left with no will to live
And with no memory of me
I, bringer of useless comfort
Where there should not be
Death is the only way out of the disease
Out of the disease

credits

from The Empty Circle, released January 27, 2023

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Psychostasy Modena, Italy

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