P.O.F.S.

This wretched thing, rotten and frail, tossed away to the sea
They scream! "That's what we've been hoping for!"
His escape, a ruse, the people cheer, the streets are filled with
Overwhelming laughter
Who's laughing now?
This was all a test
It seems none were behind me
It takes a village to raise a child
Here I see no village
The burning flesh, the screams, the fear, I take it all in, so I can see
You are now all gone, you now lie in ashy graves
I am the arsonist. Fear, flame, burning flesh, recipe for death
Oh bittersweet death. Something better when you've prepared the meal
It feels and seems so surreal. Can you fucking taste it?
I've never had a problem, as long as I wasn't numb in the head
I'm not ready to solve them, at least not until I'm fucking dead



Credits
Writer(s): Ben Deml
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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