at the Coliseum of broken souls, in a battle to the bitter end...
when all that's left are plastic roles, is there a difference between enemy and friend?

the foolish and the righteous, both walk the same path...
only the undaunted, can escape the arena's wrath.

like a slaughterhouse maintained by foolish cows, in a truly ironic masochistic order...
so the ship to the arena bow's, at heart growing ever so much colder.