Out from the center we find the hidden chains
Beneath obsession only the dirt remains
It tells a story of black eyes and skin and bone
We repeat sometimes the things we can't let go
Are you ready to cleanse me
Are you willing to break my mold
Don't mind the beating heart heard
While you are taking in your fill
Condemned to comfort what you have to kill
No better tale to tell that your demise at my demand
A violation of your precious promised land
Are you ready to cleanse me
Are you willing to break my mold
All alone you are to bleed
For every little burden you will receive
I know the sickness by its Christian name
I know the rules but will not play the game