Songtext von The Feeble Mind

The Feeble Mind Your flesh a shrine to my soul torn from bone dripping crimson red Your time is now I dream of death on ready wings with nothing left Light floods your eyes as you struggle bound in terror Enveloped in the stench of morality Tattered dolls found wrapped in plastic Tortured souls freed from humanity The feeble mind will pray to God the feeble mind will fall