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VI. The Frantic Pace of Dying
Cryptopsy
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They are living candles
We will watch them burn
Frantic pace of dying
So hard to maintain, ohh
Into the arms of solace you go
We sing screams of men
Make a joyful noise unto the Lord
Scream and scream again
Age or beauty, which to burn?
There's always room for one less
Suffering is the master from whom we learn
Keep this secret and be blessed
And in the last days before revelation
Existence futile, failure is not an option
They bleed for love of the body
And they die for the body
Now, only silence remains
A silver silence
The sick
The dying
The dead
The rotting
The damned
The burning
Their lives, as such, are but a trifle
Their sacrifices, much like compost
Will help to nourish the seeds of the future
The youngest body cannot cease to grow
Arbeit macht frei
Until you die
Welcome to permanent downtime, yeah
Ah!
They are all living candles
We will watch them burn out
All of this smells like decomposing body
Rest is for the weak
Rest is for the weak
Rest is for the weak