Grip Inc Descending Darkness
Pushed into the Mounth of the Abyss A world that owes nothing Trapped in an emotionless empire Silent are endless parades Respect like smoke Lost in cyclones Breathing along the isle of no return The gavel crashes upon A system built for The substitute fix only to shatter Crisp brittle sorrow Smacks hard into melting faces Friction sinks into rotting masses Swallowed by seas of sand Deep in the bloody soil Buried under the sins of our fathers Bodies splinter From the bowels of sorrow Escaping to twist in the wind The scent of darkness
