...of every strain

Why can't I feel the life that I breathe?
Why am I so consumed?
Despair the face of every strain my thoughts are weak and torn

Reap what you have sewn
The flame that burns my heart is blown

I wear a face that hides my pain amidst my world of anger
How much longer can I remain, behind this mask of the damned
As I walk along this bacchanal of sin
It allows the darkness of my soul to fester within

Reap what you have sewn
My faith in life is gone

This world prepares a feverfeast that feeds the beast
Governed by the wayward souls of forgotten worlds
My world prepares a feverveast that feeds the beast
Spoken by the wayward souls, their forgotten words

I bide my time awaiting one final chance to reflect on the past
Of this disease I call my life

As I walk along this bacchanal of sin
It allows the darkness of my soul to fester within

Reap what you have sewn, my faith in life is gone

This world prepares a feverfeast that feeds the beast
Governed by the wayward souls of forgotten worlds
My world prepares a feverveast that feeds the beast
Spoken by the wayward souls, their forgotten words.