Maggots in the soil, they climb out and up my leg
They promise me anything to make me believe everything they say
Project your fear on me and sneak behind my back
You better look out where you step before you fall in your own trap.
You have your own blood on your hands
You have your own
Do I look like a sheep ready to die to feed the worthless?
Do I look like a coward you can
Push down so I can't reach the surface?
I'll be the king on the throne, you'll be a jester for my amusement
And you'll be the one who stands alone damned for immurement
You have your own blood on your hands