Dissertation of an Idle Voice

Bless the coming resurgence, the bitter lure of the repeat philosophy
 Don't trust progress they marked a love
 The main substance just calls for blood
 Don't trust, don't trust their so called solution
 They'll stab the nails in your hand and call it purity
 You don't need to cut out your heart, nothing is falling apart
 You don't need to cut out your heart
 There such beauty in writing your part
 You don't need to cut out your heart, nothing is falling apart
 You don't need to cut out your heart
 There such beauty in writing your part
 You don't need to cut out your heart, nothing is falling apart
 You don't need to cut out your heart
 There such beauty in writing your part
 You don't need to cut out your heart, nothing is falling apart
 You don't need to cut out your heart
 There such beauty in writing your part