Who controls the past controls the future Who controls the present controls the past My thoughts are getting wetter and wetter I feel like a bomb a dirty outcast
I can't control my life let alone the future Strolling around in my nights my pain Acting like a rubbish pile vulture Devouring what's been left there by the poisoned pen
Who controls the pen the sword Turns people into excrements and ashes Can anyone tell me why I feel so bored Stumbling through words, sentences, ditches
But in the soundlessness of my dreams I'm sticking needles in your back Blood is black so are my lips In black and white no one hears a scream
An like the sheet in front of me My mind turns blank again Afraid of my own signs, disfigured me I'm stripping silkly, grotesque