Testo: With Dead Hands Rising. Behind Inquisition. A Ghost For The Brokenhearted.

Time and time again I?ve tried to erase my own self loathing.
Less a mouth to speak a word of honesty.
Making me nauseous.
I have given you all I have to offer.
So please let me die inside this place I call my so-called catastrophe.
I cannot control the ghosts that destroy your every memory.
No matter how beautiful it may seem.
From the inside out I can see my own self-reflecting tragedy.
Time and time again I?ve tried to dissect my own self loathing.
Becoming more malicious with each passing hour.
Will it ever rest and stop damage to vital organs?.
I watch it eat through entrails like a ghost through walls.
I cannot control these ghosts that destroy your every memory.
No matter how cruel or beautiful it may be.
From the inside I can see my own self-reflecting tragedy.
With no hope to call my own.