The upper hand belongs to a broken man To one who sold himself A mind coerced by selfishness, no desire to look within We play the game, forced to bend See through the waves; infrared He wears his good deeds like a lead helmet, he denies the rest A hate-breeder at best, selling people to his deception Look within We play the game, forced to bend See through the waves, infrared The by-and-by is no longer standing still Your ethos radiates, and we die