Funeral - Towards the End


Abandoned empathy 
Is this how life ought to be 
A grander theory 
Morality replaced with greed 

Vice become virtue 
And virtue unwise 
Material fortune 
Our souls where the price 

Within the sands of time is stored the data of our minds 
Through the sands of time unfolds the tragedy of our kind 
From the cross to the stake, to the trepanning chair 
Another cup of poison is swallowed in despair 

In the dead of night comes the memories 
I recall the things that they did to me 

The art of torture has its origin in hell 
In our basic nature, the mastery handled well 
We have been created in the image of infinite pain 
The path that lies behind us denotes the future as it has been laid 

To seek the truth 
Is to swim in a sea of lies 
To speak the truth 
Is suicide in disguise 

Cartesian reality 
Truly caused by insanity 
A cure for the disease 
Remove what does not exist 

In the dead of night they came for me 
To remove the thoughts that they caused to be

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