Album: Industrial (1991)

Inflammator


Gripping the sweat in my hands, your voice makes my ears bleed, desperate self
conciousness, in this room there is no air. Broken, you cover your burns.
Questions I feel the hate, in your mind cutting me, scared of rejection starve
me, with your perfect lies. Persuasion it will fail, you need force to make me
beg, appointed power in you head, can't allow these attitudes.