Your cold hands long to quell me Another frail attempt I will spit on your traditions With my final breath Did you trade Your sense of rage For a stagnant peace In a well lit cage? Did you trade your Sense of self For a glimpse of freedom From a chemical cell? Infinite discontent I wield like a blade And when your peace is shattered I will remain Your cold hands long to quell me Another frail attempt I will spit on your traditions With my final breath A vision of cleansing fire Your world immersed in flame And as you are torn asunder I will remain