We know the way a mind works
This is the ultimate weapon
We keep piling the hours on
Your head doesn't move

I would that my heart were pure
But my darkness is growing
And hunger must be sated
Anyways, in all the ways

I know that my aims are true
For better
           Or worse

We know the way of the gloom
This is our ultimate weapon
And whatever we feed you eat
Stone, stick and poison in the blood

Bones, rotten by our own attrition

I wish that my heart was pure
But, alas, it is not
So all I can really do
Is work for the betterment of my own lot

Be sure that my aims are true
Selfish desires
                Or worse

Bones rotten by our own attrition