We are the last of our tribe of our name hungry wolves westward bound weve shed our locks of love and rage laying bone-naked in the sun-soaked liberty of a numb and desperate minimum wage I kill without question its easier that way cloaked in thorns nervously gnawing on my shame and suffering trained to kill everything what have I done? I slit my fathers throat with the knife that he gave to me and the promise of his throne what have I become? I tried to be a man I cover my skin with paint and blood and kill upon command what have I done? my mind is my tomb Ive given my thone to my next of kin as I wait here in my room I want to evolve Ill suffer in secret its easier that way its easier that way