Remorse Is For The Dead

The dirty lord of the manor,
surveys his filthy domain.
Too many nights raising Hell,
worked a little all too well.

Constructed a monument,
to denial and excess.
Sunk so low, crawled so far back.
There's nowhere left to regress.

If these walls could talk,
they would tell a horror story.
Never-ending winter,
violence and infidelity.

Shadows fall through broken panes,
careless words that are filled with hate.
Just enough to keep it together,
never enough to make it work.

All the tongues here are forked.
We are a hailstorm of broken glass,
follow the path of least expectance.

A huge stinking pile of sick!

Pile it higher and higher!
Light the match, start the fire.
Level this place until nothing's left,
and take us with it.

Surroundings are irate,
crack of dawn brings naught but pain.
Resentment steadily grows,
laughing in the gallows.

Full throttle determined to fail.
Pedal to the metal, asleep at the wheel.
We are the lucky ones, welcome home!

Pile it higher and higher!
Light the match, start the fire.
Level this place until nothing's left,
and take us with it.

Poisoned nerves and a bloody antidote.
Violence is not an abberration, its a rule!
Dying beyond the pale.

Your beatings will continue,
until my morale improves
I dont hate you,
I'm just removing an enemy.

Remorse is for the dead!

I'm just removing an enemy.
Remorse is for the dead, my enemy!
Remorse is for the dead!