The chorus
screams for blood
every single day
emptying out their hollow vessels
in shallow tears
shallow emotions
Genuine hardship
genuine regret
purchased for someone else
prostituting themselves
out for causes that disappear in just a few days
Like a child crying
the chorus knows there is a problem
even if they can't articulate it
so they scream
and turn red
and try desperately to be heard
Finger wagging
falling off
empty anger
this is the legacy of the chorus
Who enjoys tragedy
because it feels so good to be right
There is blood on all of our hands
but the fingers still point
while plasma beads and flows to the tip
of our finger nails
We just buried a body
time to bury another one
Don't think about it
don't ever think about it
lest you be buried too
Don't think anymore
it isn't worth it
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