Lost track of every purpose, lost track of space and time
No need to ask the reasons, no urge to define
The poisoned words of the insane ones
The pathetic ways to reverse the guns
Pointed at the core of what we used to call eternity
We crave the next device to ease the despair
We want to dread, to feel the thrill of being scared
The screws won’t turn unless you buy
A safe place on the production line
Relax and eat the substitute of immortality
Make me feel insecure
With something I’ve never had before
Feed me a hundred times, show me a thousand ways,
To overcome the hollowness it gains
Lost track of purpose, lost track of time
no need to ask, no urge to define
You’ve fed me a 100 times,
Now I show you a 1000 ways to fall