Phasma - Emphatic End Lyrics

How many times have you made yourself the sacrificial lamb
A pathetic need for attention and praise just to breathe
You are f*cking weak
Your existence will be short lived that I guarantee
Despite what is said this world will not end with the meek

I want to watch the color fade from your face
The reaper closes in for a cold embrace

The lights go out as the blade slips in
Into an artery
Whispers sense of death

At the expense of all your sanity
Your vanity is the top priority
Honing my artform with a pair of pliers
Soldering gun and battery wires
Pitiful display of your contrition
And now a martyr of my volition
Within this vale of sin and toil
Souls will f*cking burn

This is a procession
A parade of pain

Everyone's a f*cking victim