A Form of Protest

From the inside to the surface
 I think we cursed it
 We kill the light with the darkness
 And we deserve it
 Sold our souls they were worthless
 Now we're remorseless
 We become death incarnate
 Falling further now
 Sinking deeper down
 Should we burn ourselves alive
 Should we collapse on the knife
 I think that god made us broken
 And she enjoyed it
 Soak in bleach, and corrupt it
 Where is the purpose
 We are apocalypse
 We are death incarnate
 We are apocalypse
 Falling further now
 Sinking deeper down
 Should we burn ourselves alive
 Should we collapse on the knife
 I won't become what I despise
 Yeah We should burn ourselves alive
 The hand that feeds is a servant
 Were we designed to deserve this
 Death, Anger, Spite, Disease
 Death, Anger, Spite, Disease
 Should we burn ourselves alive
 Should we collapse on the knife
 I won't become what I despise
 Yeah we should burn ourselves alive