It's the fault of the words
Worlds not worse than that of our own
The fault of the pointless middle ground
The equilibrium, hated
The words, weigh the weak with which is fruitless
They extract and separate
So slow
So hard to understand
Without words

...

Without words

And through the flames my body burns
Oh how angry I am
Oh, my lustful
Lethargic and letting God take control
Oh how angry he is
With "hello" and "how are you"
Rattling in his brain
As a great line between the sky
And the ground
Was built
Killed, he was
Filled with something he could not be sure
Letting it take control
Oh, how angry it is