We are the rascals who march to the drums of our own screeching

Music born from depletion

Lyrics of the abyss

Listen to our empty melodies and cry your heart's content

For we aren't done yet

Lounge in your putrid contempt

And watch the legion of red lesions

Grow colors of the cursed

Our music is born from depletion

Hoping to one day become full

And burst.