16 Cradles Of Death Marching Backwards Creating Interference To The Masses, Pt. 2

Did not have a chance, fell into line
I'll rot down here for the meantime
Without a voice I'll never change
I slide back down this slope again

The second I began to see
I had my eyes ripped out and fed to me
Without a choice I'll never change
I slide back down this slope again

Until I leave I'd love to leave here(3x)
Until I leave alone

Following the wrong lines
Marching forward in the wrong time
Punch the clock, then the wall, punch the clock
It's a longer form of suicide
(And one hell of a ride)

Slave to the grind and no surprise
I might drop dead in the meantime
Without a say I'll never change
I slide back down this slope again

Take the time to breathe it in
For everyday I'm born again
And maybe live a life of my own
Tear the face that pulls me down
The human race can march around
Voicing each and everyone's tone