Pregnant with remorse Packaged in a line Bruised souls and broken bodies left us in the desert's darkness Burning under faithful watch of a scorching sun We have fallen out of grace Pregnant with remorse Packaged in a line Bruised souls and broken bodies left us consumed and desensitized Over stimulated to perfection We have fallen out of grace I've been everything that you don't want me to be I've seen everything that you don't want me to see The needle of perfection Thrust through the apple of my eye I can sense the footsteps of the marching armies Cloned drones dancing to commands