VI. Song Of Prostration And Introversion (5. Bloody Shit) lyrics

VI. Song Of Prostration And Introversion (5. Bloody Shit) You - with no sense Just waste of means Machine with potential Running free You - with no taste Dull flesh with bones Squeezing the mind Being at wit's end Down! Coming down! Bloody shit! What kind! You - with no gracefulness Soaked all the negative Yet only dignity Which for centuries wait Down! Coming down! Bloody shit! What kind! What kind of bloody shit coming down!?