Paroles de The Process

Braced against the grip of choices Memories of the gentle ways Stained by a thousand voices Yearning for a shaft of light Catergorized And labeled an affliction Delivered naked into this world Dehumanized And cast down From the savage grip of the process This is not some kind of holy vision Holding back a great dogmatic tide Rinsed clean of servile derision Gaining passage to the other side