Poisoned by arrogance, followers of the cult of ourselves. When the day is nearly done, we'll run in the setting sun thinking \"what's done is done\". It'll be way too early to think about tomorrow, too late to rebuild what has been torn down. We'll let it go. Shaping the illusion of control. What makes us feel so fucking sure? Blinded by self-worship we move on, honored to be wrong. We'll be feeding on your vanity entombing our consciousness. All hopes are long gone. Recklessly we ride our downward spiral, till we'll spit teeth and blood. What have we done? Look at what we have become.
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