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Collapsed were the words as the sinful jaw sunk into the back of her skull. Anatomy juxtaposed; your spine runs more crooked than I. Wrap your flesh around these chains, the ones that bind you to failure. With monolithic rage, apathy and disdain, your unhallowed image dares to remain. These veins progress in rusting, and finally, this machine has died. Wrap your flesh around these chains, the ones that bind you to failure. Bite your tongue until blood drowns your say as earthen serpents carve your grave. Tyrants need no excuse, but neither do murderers. With scornful fangs, fear not to destroy what ails you.
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