Tekstovi: Byzantine. Oblivion Beckons. Deep End of Nothing.

Listen closely to the sound of treachery
Look deeply into the eyes of lechery
All fall to knees being to worship me
The brazen son of man I shine of pure idolatry

The trouble with your prayers
Are that they reek of last resorts
I waste not tears on hollow grief
In a city without dogs the wolves become the overseers
It takes a thief to catch a thief

Pain lays not its touch upon the children born of shame
Your faith awaits to be unearthed
Release the blackened dove for there was never light above
panning for echoes never birthed

Life, liberty, and the pursuit of ignorance

[Solos OJ, Skip, Wolfe, Tony]

I shall feel nothing no compassion exorcised form me
My mortal coil laid aside no emotions ever to bequeath