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if we look inward we will soon discover
a whole host of treasure to recover
some have invested in images that plague the inner soul
the are among us yet they are not of us
they are the living dead with thoughts inside there head
hiding out in the silence of the inner torment
they can't help you cause they can't even help themselves
there the blind leading the blind and soon will fall into a great ditch
just like the night of the living dead
there hearts are torn to self, sin & Satan
eyes with spots having holes
long hanging viscous fangs that bite dripping blood off of side
they all run away & hide behind the false hidden garb of compromise
can't they see through all those vain twisted lies
does this come at any big enough surprise
shallow peaks long in the silence of the underground
demonic forces wrestling for there soul
shallow pools of gloom in a saddening exploit of a soul vexation
there afraid of fire I found that out
there's a radio in the truck
I jumped into listen to it
there must have been tens of those things grabbing to hold on
still we must be on are guard every minute of there tormented souls
by now there are no more screams maybe 50 or 60 of those things standing there
I just wanted to crush them scattered in the air like bugs
a word to the wise always no where you are stepping
