They offer us the blades

 that tear with pleasure our flesh

 And every strife carves

 their influence on our minds

 We live with this suffering,

 a fall into depression

 The self-mutilation pushes us

 towards the meaning of our beings

 

They decrease us all the time until we reach the state of shit

 And every word molest our faces into wounds

 We take all verbal injuries and keep them inside

 The inner rottenness feed the ulcer, bleeding fear

 

They die, one after one,

 cause this is all they deserve

 And the smell of powder mixed to their blood

 is intoxicating

 We bear the guns and load the bullets

 blasting their heads

 We're children of Despair

 and priest of negation

 

We are them

 We offer your blades and break your minds

 We load your guns nd press the relaxation

 We are them and command your death