We the men of the abandoned few
Have found our solace
Drunk on seduction of the dying whore
Our lust and desire is not a crisis

We made it easy to use and discard
What will be made of us when our bones turn to dust?

No one can control us, design me
These shackles are broken
We will still remain

We wear our scars for all to see
The sufferance we endure
The slings and arrows will leave their mark

Break free from your chains
Wear your scars with pride
Show them all you’re not afraid

Your requiem

No one can control us, design me
The shackles are broken
We will still remain

Still remain