For what shall if profit a man if he gains the whole world and suffers for the loss of his soul
Is he a real man if he gains the whole world and suffers for his soul
The wounds he afflicts on this land
Will pour on ourselves cause we've broke the seal of our dole
If he's the real man
We'll pour our own souls to fill grudging dire of the
Collagen fiber
Concealing an wound
Of a hundred thousand paper cuts
A mother of bad scraps was made
So we killed all our fathers
For what shall if profit a man if he gains the whole world and suffers for the loss of his soul
Is he a real man if he gains the whole world and suffers for the loss of his soul
Breathing our own breath
And drinking our own spit
Won't quench our thirst or stop our drowning,
'Cause a God tired and stoned
Just made one more Earth no air or water.
For what shall if profit a man if he gains the whole world and suffers for the loss of his soul
Is he a real man if he gains the whole world and suffers for the loss of his soul
Into that door
Out of this world it is comfortable
Into that door
Out of this world it is comfortable
For what shall if profit a man if he gains the whole world and suffers for the loss of his soul
Is he a real man if he gains the whole world and suffers for the loss of his soul
Into that door
Out of this world it is comfortable (suffers for the loss of his soul)
Into that door
Out of this world it is comfortable (suffers for the loss of his soul)