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If They Ask Tell Them We're Dead
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Visualizing Thermal Death-Curves
On and on through the clouded arms
we're the ones who fight to refine, reform
and to sever all
so everything could be undone
You sigh so low, like a shallow blow
from the eyes of those with the heartless cold
and the narrow souls
We'll peel their scabs and fry the foes
We will hunt 'til the day has come
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When the word enlights more than action frights
And we'll tear it down
til penance has been set and done
Fools who flee see the fury seize
see the fire breathe then remain at ease
because we all do know
their memories will never grow
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