Dissertation of an Idle Voice

Bless the coming resurgence, the bitter lure of the repeat philosophy Don't trust progress they marked a love The main substance just calls for blood Don't trust, don't trust their so called solution They'll stab the nails in your hand and call it purity You don't need to cut out your heart, nothing is falling apart You don't need to cut out your heart There such beauty in writing your part You don't need to cut out your heart, nothing is falling apart You don't need to cut out your heart There such beauty in writing your part You don't need to cut out your heart, nothing is falling apart You don't need to cut out your heart There such beauty in writing your part You don't need to cut out your heart, nothing is falling apart You don't need to cut out your heart There such beauty in writing your part